Dragonoid
by Dearing
Summary: A Sci-fi remake of the film. It's been three hundred years, but we haven't forgotten the day the Dragonoids came. Now humanity has been reduced to a few pockets of civilisation, struggling to survive. But for the people of The Dome, the war will continue. currently going through update. Please read Author's Note for details.
1. Prologue

Hi there,  
This story came to me while reading Disneyanime91's ever amazing How to Train Your Dragon: 2015. Seeing as I've had an incredible writer's block recently, I decided to just put everything to one side to write this up.  
That said, for the moment, I'm considering this as a Demo fic. That is to say, I'm going to upload the prologue and first three chapters, and if people like it, (reviews, favs, alerts, etc.) I'll continue it and upload the rest once it's ffinished. I'm doing this because writing up a story like this will take up a lot of my time, and I don't want to finish it, only for no one to read it, So if you like it pleast let me know :)  
And on that note, please enjoy!

* * *

**SECTION 00  
****PROLOGUE**

STAND BY

/UNIDENTIFIED OBJECTS CONFIRMED\  
\HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?/

/REQUEST FRIEND OR FOE IDENTITY CODE.

PLEASE WAIT

/TIME ELAPSED\  
/CODE HAS NOT BEEN SENT\  
\HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?/

/ALERT DOME CONTROL: CONDITION GREEN  
/DIRECT ALERT: STOIC  
/RUN SURVEILLANCE MODULE

PLEASE WAIT

/ALERT SENT TO DOME CONTROL\  
/DIRECT ALERT SENT TO CALL SIGN STOIC\  
\SURVEILLANCE MODULE RUNNING/  
\HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?/

/LOCK ONTO FORWARD UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT, 3 MIN.  
/START UP TRANSLATION MATRIX  
/CONFIRM FRIEND OR FOE

PLEASE WAIT

/FORWARD UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT LOCKED\  
/THREE MINUTE BURST BEGUN\  
\TRANSLATION MATRIX RUNNING/  
\HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?/

/DISPLAY AUDIO TRANSCRIPT

PLEASE WAIT

/DISPLAYING\  
\AUDIO ENGAGED/

"_Copaani gar chaab, Evaar Ruusaan?"  
_(Are you scared, Youth Ruusaan?)

"_Nayc, Alor. Ni ramikadyc o'r te Ca'furor potestas."  
_(No, Superior. I'm confident in the Night Fury's ability.)

"_Ni vaabir'naas jare__'__la meyg. Ni jare__'__la meh gar _chaab_,_ _Ruusaan.__"  
_(I didn't ask that. I asked if you were _scared _Ruusaan.)

"_Ah. Ni…Ee'kah Alor."  
_(Ah. I…a little Superior.)

"_Jate. Ni Mo'les gar or'dinii meh gar nu'draar. Aht ar chaab la aht kar'tayl gar copaani oyacyir."  
_(Good. I'd consider you a fool if you weren't. To be scared is to know you are alive.)

"_Elek Alor."  
_(Yes Superior.)

"_Aht te kyrbej diende, Evaar Ruusaan."  
_(To the battlefield then, Youth Ruusaan)

"_Aht te kyrbej, Alor."  
_(To the battlefield, Superior.)

/ALERT\  
/DRAGONOID LANGUAGE VERIFIED\  
/UNIDENTIFIED OBJECTS CLASSIFIED: FOE\  
\LOCK ON BURST TERMINATED/  
\HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?/

/ALERT MILITARY POLICE HEADQUARTERS  
/ALERT DOME CONTROL: CONDITION RED

/ALERTS SENT\  
\STAND BY FOR FURTHER ORDERS/

* * *

It's been three hundred years, but everyone knows of the day the Dragonoids came. The tales of how they descended from space on that fateful day have been passed from one generation to the next. So many were their numbers that they blotted out the sun over America's capital. We called them the Dragonoids because of the flying mecha they used that day; their silhouettes reminding many of the European dragons of legends. While they cast this fearsome shadow, the Dragonoids broadcast a message from their ship in space: a broken message comprised of a dozen English radio transmissions that had been on Earth's airwaves over a hundred years before. It had been a message of peace, or so they had said. And for fifty years, there was peace. Though they communicated only with America, the Dragonoids did not attack humanity. And while the other nations of the world felt it was unfair that only the United States would deal with Earth's visitors, there was no real conflict beyond the arguments of politicians.

For fifty years they stayed with us. They stayed in orbit in their massive spacecraft. They never asked anything of us, aside from the request that they could stay in orbit, and humanity never asked anything of them. It was a general assumption that our hospitality would be rewarded some day. Fifty years after they arrived, in a way it was.

No one really knows what happened _that_ day. Most believe it was a breakdown of communications between America and the Dragonoids. Some believe the Dragonoids were just taking their time, allowing humanity to get used to their presence.

Whatever happened though, all that are left know that the Dragonoid's star ship descended from the heavens that day, and on its landing, Washington DC was crushed from existence. The years that followed was one of chaos. Within a month the United States had gone silent. By the end of the year, so had the rest of the Americas. The Dragonoids swarmed across the Earth, each nation falling one after the another. Some tried to fight back, some tried to surrender, but in the end they all fell silent.

Two hundred and fifty years have passed since that day. There are no nations now, only pockets of humanity dotting the globe. Some are hidden. They try to keep as off the radar as possible, eyes nervously watching the skies for any signs of those fearsome silhouettes.

Then there's those that don't hide. Those that stand up and try to rebuild no matter how many times the Dragonoids try and beat us down.

Places like my home.

We simply call it: The Dome. A massive construction of reinforced flexi-steel encapsulating twelve kilometres of English countryside. Its construction was a gruelling thirty year project, a series of fitful rushes and punishing setbacks as the Dragonoids attacked our island again and again. Only the MAF-219 Viking Assault Frames of The Dome's Military Police kept them at bay long enough to for the project to be completed. It is the dream of many to become pilots of these seventeen metre tall walking weapon platforms. It was because of them that eight thousand souls live in relative safety within the Dome's artificial haven.

Eight thousand people, and about a third of those are refugees from the outlying European nations…that alone should tell you how far humanity's fallen. But we have survived, that's the important thing. Where billions of others have died, we've held strong. We don't know why the Dragonoids attack. We don't even know why they don't swarm us like they used too. All we know is that they keep trying to wipe us out.

And for that…shooting down Dragonoids is everything round here.

* * *

Author's Note: The Dragonoid language is a butchered variation of Mando'a, the language of Star Wars' Mandalorians as created by Karen Traviss. I say butchered, because the Mando'a dictonary isn't complete, so I've had to substitute some words for others and filled in total blanks with varients of latin. I basically just wanted a launguage that sounded alien, and Mando'a sounded cool to work with.

Hope you enjoyed it so far.

Dearing


	2. Welcome To The Dome

**SECTION 01**

**WELCOME TO THE DOME**

_DATE: NOVEMBER 15, 250 A.D.E. (AFTER DRAGONOID EVENT)_

_TIME: 0014 HOURS (LOCAL TIME)_

_LOCATION: THE DOME, WEST SECTOR FIVE MCKRILLEN RESIDENCE._

It was the sounds of the alarm klaxons that woke me. The ever calm voice of The Dome's central computer reminding all civilians to make their way to the nearest shelter while all available Military Police personal report for duty. And while most really wished I wasn't, I was part of the former.

I'm stubborn I guess, to keep working against all the annoyed looks I get, but then again most officers can say the same, so I don't see what the problem is.

I am Private Alexander McKrillen. Some call me Alex. Most call me by my call sign, Hiccup. Laugh it up, everyone else has, even though I've heard worse. It's tradition for the newest officers to be given less than flattering call signs until they've proven themselves. In case the Dragonoids monitored our radio frequencies, call signs are used to try and confuse them, like our battle strategies wouldn't do that for them. Just get out there and make sure none of the giant death spewing machines get inside The Dome.

I was halfway into my maintenance overalls as ran out into the street, just in time for the artificial sun to blind panicked civilians clambering over each other to get to the underground shelters. You'd think we'd all be used to this by now. The Dome attracts Dragonoids like moths to a flame, mostly because every human who survives an attack wants to get in. The Mayor thinks we might be the largest human settlement left since the attacks began, but I think it's just moral propaganda. The elections aren't too far away after all.

"_Out of the way Hiccup!"_

I narrowly missed the giant foot of the Viking Assault Frame as it came to a halt by the roadside, the citizens around it parting like the Red Sea as the electric blue camera gazed down at me from its elongated head. These machines were to be respected normally of course. When you pilot a seventeen metre tall seventy-three ton killer robot, there's not a lot short of Dragonoid that can stop you. Each is cast in dark grey armour, capable of reaching just under a hundred and seventy miles an hour and turning on a dime thanks to the advanced yet short counterweight system that flank their shoulders. This one was taking the usual mounts, including a 430mm smoothbore cannon mounted to the right arm socket, a 77mm Recoilless rifle mounted to the left, and two launcher racks of eighteen missiles apiece mounted to each shoulder. We have some specialised units too, but this package generally gets the job done. It wasn't the Assault Frame's size or armament that made my throat go dry as I watched the camera dim however. As the hatch popped open on its thick chest, what made me wince as I shielded my green eyes against the artificial sun in anticipation of the lecture I was about to get was the pilot that stepped out, looking non to happy from beneath his helmet's peak.

The General of the Military Police is hardly someone you want to see the bad side of when the Dragonoids _aren__'__t_ attacking, but as I heard the sounds of artillery bouncing off the artificial skies above us, I knew this moment wasn't the best to be found running to my post, maintenance overalls half pulled over my one arm.

His call sign is Stoic for a reason. I've never known this giant of a man to get worked up at a Dragonoid attack, no matter how big. Now this same man was staring down at me from on high, a look of impatience on his bearded face.

"What are you doing Hiccup?"

"Sir!" I saluted hastily with my clothed arm, the other quickly wiggling into its proper sleeve. "Reporting to Outpost 83RK for munitions duty Sir!"

Stoic frowned slightly, then let his shoulders slump as realisation kicked in. Sometimes our esteemed General forgets that everyone from sixteen to twenty years old belongs to the Military Police for mandatory service straight out of school. You'd think after two years he'd remember I'd been serving for as long…or he might have if he hadn't missed the graduation ceremony.

"Just…get to your post," he rubbed a hand over his bearded face as two more Assault Frames lumbered by behind him, "and turn your earpiece on so we can see you! Last thing I need is to be washing you off a Viking's foot!"

I merely saluted as his massive form ducked back into the darkness of his machine's cockpit, my own shoulders sagging slightly as I watched him launch into a run after his comrades. As you might have guessed, I'm not exactly a welcome edition to the Military Police, but I can get into that later.

I broke into another run as I fitted the earpiece into its proper place, jamming a baseball cap over my once neat dark brown hair to finish getting dressed. This tiny bit of technology worked both as a identification signal and a radio transmitter, allowing all officers on the battlefield to see where I was while I listened in on Combat Control directing the battle.

"_CC, what's on your scopes?"_ Stoic's calm voice rumbled in my ear the moment I turned the device on.

"_Spitelout reporting Sir. Confirmed raiding party: Five Gronckles, three Nadders, three Zipplebacks and all possibly being led by a single Nightmare."_

"_What about the Night Fury."_

"_Dante reports he heard mention of it during the initial lock-on burst, but we haven't see anything yet Sir."_

"_Good."_

The battle was in full swing as I ducked through the Main Gate moments before it groaned shut. The air was thick with the screams of Dragonoid engines and Viking leg gears grinding, the night occasionally lit up as beams of bright orange light sliced through the sky from above and muzzle flashes of smoothbore cannons from below. The rattle of machine gun fire from the backup ground troops seemed to be endless as I darted between soldiers and rocket pods. A raiding party was common, especially when Winter was only a half month away. With space a paramount within The Dome, farming is kept to the surrounding countryside. The agricultural and livestock plants are left to be guarded by outposts such as 83RK, but these tiny forts are only meant to buy time until the main forces from The Dome can be deployed. Armed with a few anti-aircraft guns, this armoured single storey block was the closest to The Dome, near enough to run to but far enough that I would always be out of breath by the time I got there. It was also where most of the rookie squads like mine were assigned. I guess you could call it our home away from home.

"_Ready the Mass Drivers. Try and locate the Nightmare first, that'll screw up their chain of command."_

The duel electromagnetic catapults were firing their first salvos from the attack ring mounted halfway up The Dome's side as I darted through the open heavy door that led into 83RK's innards, pushing past foot soldiers on their way out from the Armoury and ignoring the irritated looks of those who I bumped into.

"'Bout time ya showed up lad."

I ignored the beefy soldier that grinned at me as I entered the Armoury, the memory of the look Stoic gave me beforehand urging me to just get to work as I turned the earpiece's radio down.

"Aw, ya run inta Stoic again?" I winced as I felt the metallic grip of artificial fingers grab my chin and force my mouth open, the blond haired man jovially staring down my throat. "Ya didn' talk back ta him did ya? Nope, ye cannae have, ya tongue's still there!"

"Ugh. With respect Major," I shoved the elder officer away with a weary smile. "Stow it."

My superior chuckled warmly as he went back to distributing his guns. Major Fredrick Craigson, call sign Gobber, was one of those veterans of the war that had the greatest of scars and wore them proudly. Heavy synthetic limbs extended from where his left arm and right leg used to be, his barrel chest, tanned from years in the sun, covered in scars and old plasma burns that had never quite healed. But he always took it in his stride. While he rarely ventured further than the edges of the island due to his injuries, he always kept himself active within the service be it in The Dome or the nearby outposts when many others would have retired with whatever limbs they had left. While technically I've been assigned to Nu Squad for my tenure with the Military Police, most of my time has actually been down here under Gobber's watchful eye, filling out magazines and making sure the rocket launchers don't lock up. Don't get me wrong, I've learnt a lot more than I make out to have, but still…

"Well, it's nice of ya to join us dis fine Monday mornin'," the Major laughed as he hauled a rocket launcher onto the counter, watching with mild amusement as it was snatched up moments later, "Bit worried for a moment dere, thought de beasts had carried ya off somewhere."

"Oh yes, because I'm a real catch, I am." I smirked as I began quickly feeding 9mm shells into magazines. "Just look at all the muscle on me, I'm a real threat."

"Well, they need toothpicks don' they?"

I shook my head and continued working. The truth was no one had ever actually seen a pilot of a Dragonoid. The only humans to have possibly laid eyes on our visitors were the Americans and…well…they're not around anymore. And like any other invisible enemy, rumours are bound to start flying, like how our enemies from outer space consider human to be the rarest of delicacies.

"_FIRE!"_

The Armoury shuddered as something exploded nearby, my eyes darting to the security camera screen above my head of the battle outside. One of the livestock plants was ablaze, the wreckage of a downed Viking lying prone through one of its walls. One of the down sides of having hydrogen powered mechs: it takes a lot of damage, but if an Assault Frame gets hit in the wrong place it'll go up like fireworks on bonfire night.

"_Nu Squad, we're moving in!"_

I let a hand go up to my earpiece as I heard _her_ voice, something aching in my chest as I scanned the battleground for a sign of…there! I smiled slightly as the military green fire truck sped onto the scene, troops no older than myself in fireproofed overalls of black and yellow jumping clear with hoses in hand before the vehicle had even stopped moving. Through the grainy footage, I could make out the chubby form of Patrick 'Fishlegs' Ingerman in the fire truck's driver's seat, his thick hands wrapped around the steering wheel tightly as he stared ahead with a terrified look on his face that he had actually gone so fast. Henrik 'Snotlout' Jorgenson was the first to the flames, spraying water across the blaze, a winning smile plastered across his snub-nosed face and sent the way of any girl under the age of twenty that passed them by. Rita and Richie Thornston, Ruffnut and Tuffnut respectfully, the narrow faced twins from The Dome's refugee districts, were meanwhile squabbling pathetically over one of the hoses near the truck, spraying water everywhere but the blaze itself.

And bringing up the rear, was _her._ She's the leader of Nu Squad, call sign: Valkyrie. That alone should tell you she's a far better soldier then all of us combined. Her agile frame was a blur as she pushed past the arguing twins with hose in hand. Under her orders, the others quickly fell into line (Snotlout with a disgustingly dreamy look in his eyes), the fire out in minutes before another explosion shuddered across the land further across the battlefield. I watched quietly as she barked out orders I couldn't hear to her squad-mates, her shoulder blade length plait whipping around her head every time she moved, calculating blue eyes glancing at the new fire every few moments from behind long blonde bangs as she urged the others back to the truck.

Astrid Hofferson. _Sergeant _Astrid best of our class, the hardest worker…and my former best friend.

…

It's complicated.

"Not daydreamin' again are we?"

I glanced back at Gobber in bewilderment, only to realise I'd been sitting with a magazine and waiting bullet in my hand for the past five minutes. I have him a sideways smile.

"If I say no, will you let me get out there and…"

"Oh no," the grin disappeared from Gobber's face in an instant. "Oh no no no no no. We've talked abou' this Hiccup…"

"Oh come on, do I have to beg?" I stood up angrily, slamming the magazine down on the table. "Just let me take a launcher and a few rockets and I'll be back in ten minutes, fifteen tops!"

"How menney times do I hav to tell ya ye just not cut out for the battlefield?" Gobber sighed sympathetically. "Some guys are born soldiers Hiccup, and ye just weren' "

"Could you at least let me try? If I shoot down a Dragonoid, my life will get infinitely better!" I threw up my hands in desperation. "I…I might even get promoted! Get a descent call sign. At the very least I might be able to get Dad to stop looking so…disappointed…" I sighed bitterly at that thought, letting my shoulders drop slightly. "A date might be good too."

Gobber sighed, shaking his head, "Ye jus' not cut out for it Lad. Ye've got the lowest scores on the shootin' range, the lowest scores in the AA gun simulator…Haf the time I wonder how ye've even got the strength to lift a bloody launcher!"

"Hey! Cheap shot!" I scowled indignantly. "I can carry the rocket launchers," I smirked as I pulled the tarp off a nearby stand, "Otherwise I'd never be able to carry _this_ anywhere!"

Gobber stared down at the weapon, not even bothering to hide his scepticism. To him, at first glance it probably looked like the hundred or so other FIM-92 Stinger missile launchers we kept in stock; a long green barrel with a boxy targeting computer slung underneath before the trigger and a simple targeting scope mounted one side.

"Doesn' look that differen' ta me." he finally grunted.

I rolled my eyes, "Of course it doesn't look different. It's the missile inside that's been modified. I designed a warhead that latches onto a target and delivers a local EMP directly into the…"

"No."

"What?"

"I said No," Gobber shook his head. "I know wha' ya thinking Hiccup, but I'm not lettin' ya out onto the battlefield with sumthin' A, ya haven' cleared to even build with Stoic or Kingston, and B, you haven' even tested yet!"

"What exactly am I a going to test it on?" I gave him an exasperated look. "I can't exactly run to Washington Crater and ask a Dragonoid to stand still!"

"An' tha's me point Lad," the Major placed his synthetic hand on my shoulder. "If ya were meant ta be a soldier, ya wouldn' even be tinkin' of _building_ sumthin' like this, let alone testin' the damn thing. Soldiers fight, mechanics an' scientists build. So if ya ever wan' to get out there with the rest of Nu Squad ta _fight_ Dragonoids, ya jus' hav' to stop all…" he paused, his face screwed up in thought for a moment, before waving his free hand in my direction, "this."

I gave him a deadpan look, "You just gestured to all of me."

"There ya go then!" Gobber smiled brightly as he slapped me painfully around the shoulder. "A new mission objective for ya: Stop bein' all of ya."

The deadpan look quickly became a sour one as the Major lumbered away, chuckling at his own humour. I didn't try to fight it though. What would be the point? As long as Gobber was watching over me, there was no chance I was going to leave the Armoury before the battle was done. I'd get my chance though. I was only eighteen after all, I still had time before my compulsory service ran out and my Dad forced me to do something more…mundane. I knew I would get out there…some day. Because in this day and age, the war against the Dragonoids means everything. Be you Stoic or the guy that packs his groceries, if you take down a Dragonoid, no matter how you do it, you're going to be respected for it. It's no easy task of course, the fact most of humanity has been wiped out should tell you that much. They control the skies now, while we're forced to fight from the ground. They also have many different kinds of Dragonoid, where we normally provide different mounts for the Vikings depending on what we need from them, if we need them at all.

Most classes of Dragonoid we refer to by a corruption of their native names, mostly because the translators don't have a corresponding word for it in the English language. Each is designed to fill a certain role, and each performs that role with brutal efficiency.

The Nadder is a scouting class Dragonoid. It tends to fly at the heads of raiding parties and performs hit-and-run attacks until the main force arrives to soften up defences. Taking down one of those gets you noticed by the higher ups.

The Gronckle class meanwhile is a slow flying general purpose Dragonoid. A combined attack from these heavily armoured workhorses has been known to destroy entire outposts in a single combined blast. I heard once three of them even managed to punch a hole through The Dome's thick walls. You bring one of them down and suddenly half The Dome knows your name.

The Zippleback is the Dragonoids' main land tank, dropped in by other Dragonoids. It's equipped with two duel barrel turrets and is damn near impossible to sneak up on without getting shot at as a result. You make a crater out one of them, and your everyone's' hero for a few weeks.

Of course if you shoot down a Command Dragonoid, your name is going to be on everyone's lips for a very long time. The Ca'vercopa is one of few machines whose name we actually managed to translate: Nightmare. A name it whole heartedly deserves. These fast yet powerful machines are usually the most deadly Dragonoid on the battlefield. Only the Military Police's finest go after them. Mostly because they have this nasty tendency to cover themselves in burning plasma and dive-bomb our installations before unleashing hell with the twin energy cannons mounted to their backs.

But there's one more within their ranks that is the most coveted target. The one Dragonoid that no one has ever seen. It's only been on the battlefield for the last five years, but it is the most dangerous of our enemies. It is never seen, it doesn't show up on radar or thermal imagining, and if there is a target in sight, it will never miss. In the Dragonoid's language, they call it Ca'furor. Translated, we just call it a…

"_NIGHT FURY!"_

My eyes darted to another security screen just in time to see the north side Mass driver explode in a fantastic ball of burning blue light, scattered support girders and other bits of debris crashing down the side of The Dome as the soldiers below ran for cover. Across the radio, I could hear the faint scream of the Fury's engines over panicked request for orders and fire-teams. That faint whistling noise was the only way we could identify at Night Fury attack, and even then it came a split second before something exploded. No one has ever brought down a Night Fury. Which is why I designed the Stinger and its launcher to do just that.

If I could just get past the Major…

"Man the fort Hiccup," I looked up in surprise as Gobber strode out of the armoury, a Javelin launcher and a rack of six missiles strapped to his back, "They're gonna need me out there if we've got a Fury on our hands."

I watched him leave with hiked eyebrows, hardly believing my luck…until he suddenly turned back, his eyes serious.

"Stay…put…there."

I gave him another deadpan look.

"Ah, ya know what I mean."

I smiled faintly as my superior charged out of the Armoury. Yes, I _knew_ what he meant. Stay here and wait for the all clear.

I counted slowly to ten to make sure he would be coming back, before I grabbed my launcher and ran for the exit.

* * *

_TIME: 0043 HOURS_

_LOCATION: THE DOME EXTERIOR, MAINTENANCE PLATFORM 7-C_

As the elevator rushed up The Dome's smooth side, the sounds of battle became quieter, the ringing in my ears broken by the occasional Nadder swooping by trying to find weak spots. They all ignored the lone human on the open platform rushing along the maintenance tracks towards the Mass Driver attack ring. Their mistake I guessed.

From above, I could see the battle was going in our favour anyway. Several Vikings were aflame to be sure, but I could see the burned out chassis of at least two of the Nadders, and a group of Assault Frames (most likely led by Stoic) surrounding and netting a Zippleback, its pilots ejecting into the night.

But my target wasn't down there. It was somewhere in the darkness of the moonless night. It had already attacked the first Mass Driver, so I figured the now silent second one would at least high on the pilot's list of targets. Staying close, but not close enough to be hit by burning wreckage, seemed logical to me.

I stopped the maintenance platform several levels above the ring, around a third of the way to The Dome's peak. Across the curve of our home, the Mass Driver sat dormant and dark as I pulled the loaded launcher off my back and onto my shoulder, falling down onto one knee as I pushed up and looked down the iron sights, taking only a quick look behind me to make sure the backblast would have plenty of room. If I was right, our most powerful weapon wouldn't be silent for much longer.

"Come on," I murmured under my breath. "Give me something to shoot at. Please. I'll settle for that Nadder if I have too."

But I didn't have to settle for the Nadder. Far from it in fact. As I gazed desperately out across the darkness, that faint high powered scream gradually rising above the battle below to deafening levels as a smudge of black soared across the stars. The targeting computer pinged urgently as I swung the launcher across the smudge's path, hoping, preying the upgrade I gave the infrared tracking system within the missile would do its part.

As the scream reached an unbearable pitch, the sound of a confirmed lock-on was accompanied by an explosion of blue light as the second Mass Driver met its partner's fate. In the briefest of moments, I became the first human being to know more about a Night Fury then just the sound it makes. Its silhouette was framed against the electric blue fires of the Mass Driver for a fraction of a second, but in that brief moment I managed to make out a stocky body, long wings fanning out on either side and a pair of lethal looking cannons mounted close together to its front.

I had one shot however, and no time to take notes.

The missile screeched off into the night as the booster charge gases from the launcher's rear lit up the darkness around me. I heard the arms starting to extend for a split second before the weapon got to far away.

A moment later, I heard the most wonderful noise: the sound of an engine dying.

I couldn't help but let the grin spread across my face as the sound of the Dragonoid nose-diving through the night met my ears, the silhouette streaking off across the countryside, soon lost to my eyes as it fell over the hills and out of sight.

"I…I hit it…" I let the empty launcher fall to the platform with a clunk, my eyes wide as I slowly got to my feet. "I…YES! I HIT IT! Did anyone see that?"

A light burst into being above my head, the sound of a Dragonoid's engines zapping all the joy out of the moment as I cast my green eyes upward as the flaming Nightmare came crashing through the night towards me.

"Yeah I was kind of hoping…you know…you wouldn't…" I sighed wearily as I slammed down the emergency release, "You guys can't let me have anything nice, can you?"

My stomach tried to leap up my throat as the platform dropped down violently, the dark orange Nightmare smashing into the maintenance tracks where I had been standing moments before. Claws on each of its four limbs tried to dig into The Dome's side, sparks flying across the metal surface as its long head turned towards me, a single glowing red camera flashing menacingly amid the flames of burning plasma.

"Can't you think of someone more important to shoot at?" the Nightmare turned to face me, the twin cannons mounted to its shoulders glowing with burning white energy. "Of course you don't."

The Dragonoid's attack caught the Mass Driver attack ring as the platform crashed past it, the Nightmare taking flight on a burst of fire from the jets mounted to its long rigid wings. The platform itself was rapidly gaining speed as The Dome quickly began to steepen, my cap flying off on the wind as I held onto the safety rail for dear life. Above me, the Nightmare soared up into the night before arcing over and down towards the tiny human that was currently plummeting down The Dome's side, its cannons glowing and ready for another assault. There was no attack ring to save me this time. It was kinda laughable really. I had gone from so high to so low so quickly in more ways than one. I closed my eyes and buried my face in my arms and the safety rail, a part of me silently wondering if the platform would smash into the ground before it was incinerated by energy fire.

A heavy thud from the ground rushing towards me brought me out of my stupor, my eyes opening in time to see a 430mm shell sail past metres away from the platform, knocking the Nightmare into The Dome with a sickening crack, one of the cannons crumpling into its wing against the flexi-steel plates while the other fired its shot harmlessly off into the sky.

My senses quickly with the realisation I didn't want to become a bloody mess on the concrete that surrounded The Dome, one hand blindly reaching for the brake as the Nightmare crashed past me, flames billowing from the remains of its wing as the burning plasma extinguished itself. Below, I saw the reason I was still alive; A single Viking stood in optimal firing position near The Dome, its recoilless rifle firing shell after shell at the now venerable Dragonoid, not even flinching as the Nightmare tried valiantly to escape into the night, only to be brought down by a smoothbore shot to its one remaining wing. With nothing to hold it in the air, the Command Dragonoid smashed into the ground, its front claws scrabbling against the ground to get away before it found the Viking's massive foot pinning it in place behind the wreckage of its once powerful cannons. As it weakly turned its head towards the Viking, the radio in my ear burst with static, a weakened yet angry voice filling all radio frequencies with a single alien word.

"_Dema…golka…."_

The Viking's pilot replied only with a single smoothbore shell at point blank range.

The maintenance platform's final decent was greeted with a massive fireball of orange and yellows that completely consumed the Nightmare, black smoke billowing up into the sky as the Viking turned to face me, looking like a mechanical demon from the pits of hell wreathed in its fallen foe's flames as those Dragonoids not captured or destroyed fled the battle at the sight of their commander's end.

I didn't need to know who the pilot was as the Assault Frame lumbered towards me. I could already feel the anger and disappointment practically seeping out of the machine before the hatch had even opened.

Because when your father is General Gregorio 'Stoic' McKrillen, you don't have to look at him to know he's less than happy with you.

Which in my case, was most of the time.

"Hi…Dad." There was no point trying to impress him with proper protocol like before.

A metallic groan from above broke the tension in the air, all eyes cast upward in alarm as several support struts of the attack ring near where the Nightmare's assault had hit suddenly gave way, the entire rig falling down to one side with a pathetic groan followed by a resounding crunch. Suddenly aided by gravity, the flaming remains of the southern Mass Driver broke free of its moorings. All I could do was watch with a heavy wince as the great weapon crashed down the side of The Dome with a nails-against-chalkboard screech, leaving black scorch marks in its wake before slamming into the surrounding concrete…and falling over into the nearest agriculture plant.

I let my shoulders sag as the building exploded in a wild plume of burning orange, Nu Squad joined by Eta and Serria to tackle the blaze. I could feel my father's stony gaze on the back of my head as he let the Viking's debarkation cable ease him to the ground. I slowly turned to face him as I heard his large feet touch the ground.

Once again I vaguely wondered how our esteemed General managed to squeeze his six foot two muscular frame into a Viking's cockpit, before deciding at that moment it didn't really matter. Stoic's dark blue eyes stared down at me as his mouth formed a thin line behind his thick brown beard. I could see a mental war going on within him as he folded his arms across his vast chest, the normally slightly loose fabric of pilot suit's arms straining slightly against his large biceps. Should he explode at his son out here, or in the privacy of his office? To be honest it wasn't like everyone present would have seen something new. General McKrillen was known for being calm in battle, not when dealing with his son's mistakes. I glanced back at the burning wreckage of the Mass Driver and the agricultural plant, before turning back to my Dad helplessly.

"To be fair, it was kind of on fire before the Nightmare got to it."

My father's form visibly slumped as though someone had let air out of a Stoic shaped balloon.

"Private. My office. 0830 hours," he glanced at the modified Stinger launcher at my feet. "And bring that thing with you."

I winced painfully as he pushed past me to go look at the damage. I'd quickly figured out that my Dad would call me by one of my different names or rank depending on how angry he was.

He called me Private. Trouble…didn't quite seem to say it.

* * *

_TIME: 0835 HOURS_

_LOCATION: THE DOME, CENTRAL TOWER, MILITARY POLICE HEADQUARTERS, GENERAL MCKRILLEN'S OFFICE_

Stoic hadn't said a word in five minutes. He just stared at the launcher I'd placed on his desk at his request, wearing a look somewhere between irritation and agitation.

We were both in uniform now; long black boots, forest greet trousers and a white shirt and black tie the only similarities between out clothing. As one of the lower ranks, the wraparound tunic I wore came down to around halfway up my thigh, cast in the same forest green as my trousers and accented in black along the hem and tops of the shoulders, buttons hidden from view and all held close to my thin frame by a simple black belt and buckle around my waist. Under my arm I'd placed my peaked cap, the fingers of my free hand running nervously against the gold symbol of the Military Police placed on its front (A winged five pointed star, The Dome rising proudly over it.). My father's own hat sat on his desk beside his meaty hands, his long heavy green coat hanging on a hook behind him; a knee length wraparound ensemble of green and black hems and shoulders with the stars of rank stitched in, the Military Police's symbol emblazed on the large belt that would hold it around his waist with the four gold buttons above it. Only the officers wore these coats. It was supposed to show all subordinates where their superiors were, not that my Dad needed any help in that department.

Finally, Stoic sighed, slumping back in his large leather chair.

"It doesn't look any different too me."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, "Of course it's not…" I bit back my tongue, quickly counting to ten as the General gave me a hard look. "I mean…it was the missile that was fired from it that was important sir. I designed to deliver a direct EMP blast through a Dragonoid's armour in the hope that…"

"Did you clear this with Gobber or one of Kingston's men?"

"I…no."

"Well, I know you didn't clear it with me." Stoic sighed wearily, "You know it's against regulations to make upgrades to government property without the proper authorization…"

"With respect Sir," I winced slightly at my father's glare, but held my ground, "if I'd asked you to let me modify a FIM-92 Stinger missile to latch onto a Dragonoid's hull and deliver a EMP burst directly to its power source in the hope that we could collect it and perhaps find something to help us get close to Washington Crater without being blown to smithereens, would you happily approve my paperwork or just tell me to go back the 83RK's Armoury and fill up the magazines?"

The scowl on Stoic's face said it all as he stood up and rounded his desk, towering over me threateningly. I knew I was treading a fine line, talking to the General in such a way. If I was anyone but his own flesh and blood, the chances would be good that I would be scrubbing toilets for the rest of my obligatory service, and that would have been if I _hadn__'__t_ been anywhere near the Mass Drivers when they fell. When the General spoke however, it was a deadly calm, as though he was viewing the whole situation the same way he saw the Dragonoid attack a few hours before.

"You know the reason I try to keep you in the Armoury," he said finally. "Every time Hiccup, _Every time_ we let you out onto the battlefield, disaster is sure to follow. Tonight is just a prime example of the chaos you and your damn theories cause. Because you were trying to shoot down Dragonoids with untested, un-cleared prototypes, the attack ring needs to be realigned and repaired before we can even _start_ on the Mass Drivers. And of course it doesn't help that Winter is a few weeks away, and now _I _have to go before the Council and explain why we might have potential food shortage on our hands."

I scowled darkly, "It's not like I destroyed _every_ Agriculture plant around The Dome Dad…"

"But you destroyed _one_ Hiccup!" I flinched as his voice rose dangerously. "And that might be one too many. You have duties assigned to you. Why can't you just be happy with them and ride out your damn compulsory service in peace?"

"Gee Dad, I don't know," I threw up my arms in exasperation. "Maybe it's because I'm the only one of my Squad whose been locked in the Armoury with no one but Gobber to trade insults with for the last two years? Maybe I'm tired of watching Snotlout prance about the battlefield with a hosepipe looking like he's in the middle of a shampoo commercial while I sit there loading mags with bullets that probably won't even penetrate a Dragonoid's armour in the first place? Or maybe…maybe I just looked up at my Dad when I just came up to his knees and said, 'When I grow up, I want to kill Dragonoids just like him', and I now I feel kind of betrayed because he's stuffs me in a dark room where I can't even prove myself to him!"

Stoic watched me calmly as I exploded in his face. This obviously wasn't the first time, nor did I expect it to be the last. But I was tired, it was early, and these little 'conversations' we had usually finished the same way anyway. Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand across his bearded face.

"You're a lot of things Alex," he said quietly, "But you have to face facts. You're not a soldier, and when your compulsory service is up, you know I'm not going to recommend a renewal."

I let my shoulders slump, the tiredness of the morning overtaking me again, "I understand…Sir."

"Good. I'm confiscating the launcher. I'm also putting you on a three day suspension until it can be decided exactly how much of the attack ring's destabilisation was actually your fault. Until then, your dismissed."

"Sir." I snapped to attention, saluting his back as he turned back to his desk. He didn't return it. He didn't even say a word as I turned stiffly around and headed for the door.

* * *

"So…how did it go?"

I glanced up as I closed the glass paned door behind me, my eyebrows hiking up in surprise at the sight of Fishlegs shifting uncomfortably in the plastic chairs set outside the General's office, fiddling with the brim of his hat. Patrick was one of those funny 'sometimes-friends', the kind of guy who you would generally get along with as long as there was no one cooler around. He was…podgy, someone who had never really lost his puppy fat, even though he stood a good few inches taller than me, his uniform ever so slightly too small. He was intelligent though, a photographic memory apparently. I'd never found a Dragonoid statistic that Fishlegs couldn't repeat straight from the database off the top of his mousey brown haired head. Like Gobber, he was the closest I had to a proper friend, and I was generally glad to see him.

"As…well as to be expected," I sighed as I fitted my cap over my head. "We talked, he looked disappointed…you know," I smiled tiredly as the portly Corporal quickly stood up to follow me, "Same old, same old. So what brought you up here?"

Fishlegs trotted after me uncomfortably, his small grey eyes darting to junctions of the corridor in case Snotlout or the twins might be hiding behind them.

"Actually Sergeant Hofferson sent me," I glanced back at Astrid's name. "She err…wanted me to ask the General if your reprimand would be going on the Squad's record."

"Oh. Of course she did," I let my shoulders slump again as we reached the elevator at the end of the hallway. Within the Police, your Squad was supposed to be everything. You were rewarded together, and punished together unless the crime itself was particularly horrendous. As squad leader, it didn't surprise me Astrid would want to make sure my mistakes didn't reflect on _her_ team. Of course, after two years I was surprised even my Dad considered me a part of Nu Squad, let alone one of my former best friends.

"Is she mad?"

"Is she ever when you…be you?"

I smiled slightly at Patrick's attempt at humour as the glass doors opened for us. The only time Astrid was mad at me since she became Squad Leader was when my screw ups directly involved her. Most of the time she just gave a me a look of disdain, or not even a glance at all.

I sighed as I entered the empty car, pressing my forehead to the glass wall as Fishlegs pressed the button for the ground floor.

Central Tower was the tallest building within The Dome. A beautiful construct of glass and steel over two hundred floors high, it looked like some had just taken a pinch of the earth and pulled it upwards, a wide base gradually narrowing to a tip surrounded by a large observation deck from which the entire city could be seen. It was here that most government agencies kept their headquarters, including the Military Police and it's sub-agencies such as the Department of Intelligence and the Military Engineering Bureau. Most of the Tower was dedicated to The Dome Council though. Within the reinforced core, the bureaucrats and other such officials made their money running the city. The Council Chamber itself was a reinforced dome embedded in the Tower's floor where those that represented the people, the Police and everyone in-between gathered to present problems, strategies in the war and so on to the Mayor and those that followed her lead.

As the elevator descended, I gazed out at the lights of the city below. Most of the taller buildings were congregated towards The Dome's centre, gradually becoming smaller until you were left with the suburban and refugee districts that lined the edges of our home. The artificial sun above was at morning light now. People below would be getting up, getting ready for another day, most likely watching or reading the news about my latest screw up. It would probably be a small piece, maybe at the bottom of page seven or about five stories after the Mayor's latest press release on the TV.

"So…what happened up there?"

I glanced back at Fishlegs, who looked away under my gaze and fiddling with his hat brim in his hands again. I turned back to the window, watching the city slowly rise up towards me.

"I was testing…something. Something I thought would help."

"Again?" I turned back to glare at Patrick, who visibly recoiled. "Sorry! I didn't mean…I mean what I meant was…"

"No, forget it," I shook my head wearily. "It doesn't matter either way. Dad doesn't 'agree' with my assumption." I chuckled grimly. "I can't remember the last time we agreed on anything I do. No matter how hard I try, the most I ever seem to get out of his is a disappointed scowl…like someone just gave him a bread sandwich," I twisted around angrily, putting on an incredibly bad impression of our esteemed General. "Excuse me, Waiter, but what kind of business are you trying to run here! I believe I ordered an extra-large offspring, preferably male, with beefy arms and a guts and glory relish on the side! This thing here is a talking leafy salad!"

"I'm sure he can't really think of you that way," Fishlegs spoke quietly, afraid I'd glare at him again. "I mean you're his son right?"

"Peh, sometimes I wonder," I folded my arms across my chest irritably. "I'm nothing like him Pat. No matter how hard I try to imitate or impress him, nothing works."

"Maybe…you're trying too hard to be something your not?"

I regarded my friend quietly, wondering if the irony of Fishlegs of all people telling me this was lost on him.

"Maybe I am," I sighed at last, "but who _am _I supposed to be? I'm the son of the Military Police's highest ranking and most honoured soldier Pat. I wanted to follow in his footsteps from the moment I was old enough to realise who he was. I just…want him to be proud of me, and the only way I can do that is by getting out there and taking out Dragonoids."

The rest of the elevator ride went down in silence. No one came or entered the car, and in no time at all it was gradually slowing down as the ground floor neared.

"You can tell Astrid I'll make sure Dad doesn't shell out any blame to the rest of Nu Squad," I turned to face Fishlegs as we came to a halt. "He probably won't anyway, but maybe it'll reassure her or something."

"Okay," Fishlegs didn't seem too comforted at my promise, but he nodded all the same. "I'll…try and keep Snotlout and the twins off your back. Can't make much of a promise for how long though."

I smiled tiredly as the glass doors opened out onto the Tower's Main Lobby, patting my friend gingerly on the shoulder in thanks and farewell before heading out into the first crowds of the day. I had no doubt Snotlout and the twins would probably hunt me down for a little verbal sport, but if I was lucky, I might not run into any of them before the end of the day anyway. Dad had given me a three-day suspension after all, and I knew the Stinger had hit the Night Fury. Combine those two facts together, and I had something to do for a while, something that might actually benefit The Dome and maybe even end this war once and for all. I'd like to see Dad look disappointed after that.

With that thought in mind, I adjusted my hat determinately, and made my way out of the lobby.

First Stop: Outpost 83RK.

* * *

**DRAGONOID TRANSLATIONS:  
**"Dema…golka…."  
(Monster)

I've set up a poll on my profile as to whether or not I should have the translation of Dragonoid here at the bottom. Please vote, as there's a lot of alien speak next week and I need to know! Thank you.

Author Notes: Fishlegs friendship with Hiccup is a callback to the original series of books. I always got the impression that the two of them might have been friends before the film, but Fishlegs was accepted for whatever reason by the 'cooler' vikings and didn't want to be seen as hanging around a 'loser' like Hiccup, so I thought I'd add this idea into the story.  
Hiccup's 'complicated' relationship with Astrid comes from my thoughts as to why Astrid ignored him in the film. In HTYD, Hiccup just seems to crush on her big time, and the first time they really speak on screen is about half and hour in (aside from a comment that Hiccup was never around). DOn't get me wrong, Astrid never seemed to be the kind of person to bully Hiccup like Snotlout and the twins, but the way she just ignored him made me think there was more behind the cold shoulder then simply thinking Hiccup was weird.

I hope you enjoyed what's been written thus far. Any constructive feedback is always welcome, but I hope it was something good to read regardless.

The next chapter will be up around the same time next week, so I hope you'll come back and keep reading.

All the best,

Dearing


	3. Shifting Moods

**SECTION 02  
****SHIFTING MOODS**

_DATE: NOVEMBER 15, 250 A.D.E.  
__TIME: 1034 HOURS  
__LOCATION: THE DOME, CENTRAL TOWER, DOME COUNCIL CHAMBER_

In the five years that she had sat at the head of the Dome Council, Mayor Miranda Gothi had never partially liked the Council Chamber.

A grand room to be sure; a cavernous room of grand pillars and massive arches of finest (yet recycled) marble housed within the massive reinforced dome embedded into the bottom of Central Tower. It was here that representatives of The Dome's various areas and organisations would congregate to discuss matters that involved them at the home they served. Tier upon tier of balconies rose upward and outward from the centre like the rings of a tree cut in half. Each was segmented off to give each representative his or her own private space as they brought their objectives forward. _This_ was the reason Miranda disliked the place. Most council sessions would dissolve into shouting contests between the various parties. All wanted to have their voices heard and all wanted their own way over their neighbours and allies. The Mayor and the eleven other members of her administration seated at a grand half-moon table of oak before the Representatives were there to try and insure each of the parties had their say, hear arguments for and against their policies and eventually make the ruling decision on whether to approve or deny their requests. Thier word was law, their decisions final.

At least…that was what usually happened. For today was one of those not so rare days when a single topic was on everyone's lips. A day when shouts of anger were united as one and echoed up into the Council Chamber's vaulted ceiling.

It was always the same for every session held after a Dragonoid attack.

"That the Military Police allowed the Mass Drivers and attack ring to be destroyed is intolerable!"

"We won't be able to conduct repairs until the new year. Can we rely on the Vikings to defend us from any major attacks?"

"What about the food supplies? How big an impact will the loss of the agriculture and livestock plants be to The Dome with Winter just around the corner."

Miranda closed her eyes, blotting out the sounds of voices over voices as she steeped her long fingers on the table before her. She was used to this sort of thing of course. She had spent most of her life surrounded by politicians along with their agendas and accusations. Her father had been a man of predominance within Dome society, just as his father had before him. To rub shoulders with Representatives of the Dome Council had almost been an everyday affair for her during her childhood, and even more so when she joined their ranks as a junior official not tewnty years before.

Now she as she entered her mid-forties, _she_ was the one everyone wanted to talk too, the centre of attention.

The stress of the job was taking its toll however; her black hair was streaked with steel grey, the first few wrinkles starting to show on her dark caramel skin. That wasn't to say she was getting weak, by any means. When she stood from her chair, the entire Assembly went quiet as she adjusted the jacket of her pale grey suit and smoothed the wrinkles form her matching dress. Miranda Gothi after was someone all respected, and when she spoke, all would listen.

"The raid on the farmlands surrounding The Dome is indeed troublesome, but while we have lost several agriculture and livestock plants, I may remind the Council that the loss of such handfuls of facilities will not force us to scavenge from the nearby forests or promote the need for rationing. The loss of the Mass Drivers is also regrettable, but The Dome has stood on this ground for over a hundred and thirty years, and even I remember a time when the attack ring did not encircle us. We will survive, as we always do."

"But is survival really all we can do Your Ladyship?"

Miranda felt her icy blue eyes narrow slightly as she watched a large familiar form stride down the main aisle towards the Council table. To say she rarely saw eye to eye with General Gregorio McKrillen would be putting it far too nicely. He was too aggressive in her opinion, constantly determined to find a way to get through the defences of Washington Crater and wipe out however many Dragonoids it took to get there. Miranda on the other hand wanted to focus on rebuilding humanity. The war had been going on for too long, and she knew the citizens of The Dome were as tired of the constant Dragonoid attacks as she was. Her goals were to find a peaceful end to the conflict, someway to end the violence and focus on returning humankind to its former glory. It seemed sad to her that most of those tired citizens would prefer Stoic's way to hers.

"It has been two hundred and fifty years since this war began General McKrillen," she spoke coldly as the bear of a man stopped before the table. "The fact we've survived this long proves we're at least fairly good at it."

"But only because we were _forced_ to survive Your Ladyship, as I have told you many times," the General smiled tightly behind his beard, before turning to face the Council. "For two hundred and fifty years ago, humanity numbered in billions. Two hundred and fifty years ago, we thrived across the globe, all kinds of nations, people and traditions. Now we may be all that's left of that history. Now our citizens scurry into bunkers while my men and women defend our small boarders from those vermin's attacks. Our days go by in fear, wondering when alarm bells might sound and the sound of alien engines fills the skies. This war has been going on for too long now, we all know that. But it can only end one of two ways. Either we finish them, or they finish us!"

A rumble of approval echoed across the Chamber, Miranda's heart sinking slightly with it.

"What do you propose we do General?" she asked softly.

"In Washington Crater lies the warship, the Dragonoid's base of operations and the place where this wretched conflict began," Stoic turned back to the Mayor, though his voice still boomed across the vast Council Chamber. "If we destroy their home, the Dragonoids will become disorganised and the monsters will easier to take down. Our only problem is getting there. Kingston?"

Gothi glanced to the balconies as a single amber light lit up in the darkness. With a weary sigh, she indicated to it as she slowly sat down.

"The Dome Council recognises Colonel Ernest Kingston, Representative of the Military Engineering Bureau."

The light turned green as several spotlights lit up youthful officer approaching his mid-thirties, his dark blond hair pushed back in a single wave that contrasted slightly with his tanned skin.

"Representatives of The Dome," he spoke aloud, his light Afrikaans accent carrying across the Chamber, "as you are no doubt aware, this is not the first time General McKrillen has brought this proposal before The Dome Council, neither is he the first to propose it at all. The Military Police has tried on numerous occasions since The Dome was first completed to try and reach Washington Crater and end this war once and for all. Our past attempts have failed before they have even begun however, due to the interception of our fleets before they can even see America on the horizon," he touched a console before him, a small emitter rising from the Council Table to project a three dimensional map of England, North America and the Atlantic Ocean. "Recent reports from our colleagues in the Department of Intelligence however may have shed some light on the problem. We believe that the Dragonoids have set a network of surveillance devices under the Atlantic and across North America. They detect our fleets before they've even reached halfway across the sea and deploy Dragonoid squads to decimate our forces. Taking into account trajectories we've gathered from past expeditions, we believe the Dragonoids have a base of operations to deal with such excursions here, on the southern most tip of Greenland," the map zoomed into the snow covered landmass. "Both the Bureau and Intelligence believe that a base here may be directly connected to the surveillance network. The Bureau also believes if access can be gained this outpost, we can alter the network and secure safe passage for any future fleets to Washington Crater."

"Therefore, my operation plan is this," Stoic continued as Kingston returned to his seat, "I will take one Cerberus class mobile fortress and two Assault Frame transporters to Greenland to take this outpost out before the Winter sets in. The Military Engineering Bureau believe it may have a way to get a small enough force through the network without setting anything off. Before the year is out, we will destroy any Dragonoid presence there and make the Network safe for a larger fleet to invade the Crater once the thaws come. If all goes well," he turned back to Miranda, "this time next year we could be celebrating the events that led to this war's end, and tasting a life of freedom for the first time in two and a half centuries."

As the rumble of approval turned into shouts of agreement, The Dome's Mayor could only smile thinly.

"_If_ everything goes well General. If."

* * *

"Well, tha' seemed ta go well."

Stoic glanced at Gobber as he trudged out of the Council Chamber, the cyborg smiling pleasantly as he watched the other Representatives go by. The General was too tired to deal with his friend's humour. Miranda Gothi had something of a…draining effect on him.

"The Council approved the operation," he grunted as he strode across the entrance lobby, the Major quickly on his tail. "We leave first thing tomorrow."

"Great, I'll pac' me undies…"

"No," the General shook his head, turning to his surprised friend. "When we go on the offensive, we're going to need every experienced pilot we have. I need you to stay here and train up some of the squads on the Vikings…in case we fail."

"Oh. Tha's wonderful, tha' is," Gobber's form slumped slightly as Stoic approached one of the benches that lined the elegant foyer. "Shall I give Alex command of 83RK while ye gone too? Jus' tink of all the wonderful things 'e could do with a few blocks o' C4, a couple o' Stinger missiles and the four AA guns! What could possibly go wrong?"

Stoic sighed, the bench creaking under his weight as he slumped down and held his head in a hand. His mind was still on the argument he'd had with his son barely a few hours before. Military protocol told him the measures that needed to be taken. If it had been any other soldier under his command, he would know exactly what needed to be done.

But because it was Alex…

He sighed bitterly, "What am I going to do with him Fred?"

The answer came after only a moment's pause.

"We need Viking pilots don't we?"

The General slowly raised his eyes to his Friend's, Gobber not even flinching under the hardened gaze.

"I _really_ hope that was a joke Major. I'm not laughing either way."

"I'm not laughin' either," Craigson folded his arms stubbornly across his chest. "I don' see what the problem is. He wan's to pilot, an' we _need _the pilots. Everybody wins!"

"Accept _he__'__ll _be dead before you let him near the training arena!" the General stood up angrily. "That boy…he's just like his mother. Always dreaming, always wanting to explore, always so…different," he felt a lump develop in his throat, memories of his wife floating to the surface of his mind. He blocked them out. "And he never listens to a word I say. Half the time I feel like I'm just banging my head against the side of The Dome when I talk to him!"

"Ooh, shouldn' do that. Ye'll get a mighty headache."

"I _already_ have a mighty headache," Stoic scowled as Gobber chuckled, "It has two legs and a troublesome personality. Fred, Alex is trying to be something he isn't. He's not like you and me. He's not even like…that Ingerman kid! At least _that_ lad will follow orders, Alex just does what he thinks will help, and ends up destroying something!"

"Which is why we need ta train him," Gobber set his good hand on his friend's shoulder, "Gregorio, I know ya tryin' to protect him, bu' e's not a little kid anymore. An' for the nex' tree years, e's gonna be one of ya men as well as ye boy. If we're lucky, maybe ya right. Maybe the war'll be over next Spring. But if ya not right, e's gonna need some preparation. Ya not gonna be around forever, and ye cannae keep him locked up forever either. Chances are good e's gonna get out again," he smiled wryly. "Chances are good e's out there now."

* * *

_TIME: 1107 HOURS  
__LOCATION: ENGLAND, FIVE KLICKS SOUTH EAST OF DOME TERRITORY_

In the year 89 A.D.E., When the construction of The Dome first got underway, a call went out across the British Isles for the remaining settlements to come together. The message was clear; unite what was left of humanity under a single banner, rebuild our civilisation and drive away the Dragonoid menace. Response was slow in the first few years. Memories of the major cities like London being blown away in a matter of hours were still fresh in many people's minds, held there by the elderly who had lived to see it happen. Most of the settlements that remained were small villages and towns largely ignored by the major attacks, most likely due to their small populations presenting insignificant threats to the Dragonoids themselves. But as the years went by, and those that protected the construction site proved they could hold the aliens at bay, more and more people joined the project. As The Dome neared completion in 119 A.D.E., most of the Isles' citizens had congregated under our single metal roof. The villages and towns that had once held so many people now lay deserted, slowly crumbling into ruins as nature slowly reclaimed the land.

One of these villages lay not to far from The Dome's security parameter, its name forgotten by time. Being so close to the construction site, it was no surprise to anyone that its citizens were the some of the first to leave their homes behind for the safety of greater numbers. Located in a shallow valley on top of a fairly steep hill, it had managed to escape the war by simply being out of the way and generally unnoticeable. It seemed sad that it had just been left to rot after keep its people safe for so long. Both the forest that had covered the rise above the village and the clusters of trees that sat along roads and between fields had long since expanded themselves out between the houses. The concrete roads had become split and fractured as two and a half centuries of weathering and decay allowed tufts of grass to poke through. The houses that had once housed families now played host to local wildlife, their innards stripped of everything useful, leaving empty carcasses to be swallowed up by the trees. Exactly how long it had been since humans had lived here became even more apparent when you looked at the remains of the local church near the northern entrance.

It might have been a nice building once upon a time. It was a simple structure, a flat-topped tower at one end with small nave big enough for the village's congregation, narrowing into the choir area before sloping up towards where the High Altar might have once stood. The forest had long since reclaimed the land surrounding the building, tall trees poking their branches through stained glass windows of saints whose names many people had forgotten. Its innards had been stripped of anything worth salvaging when the villages citizens moved on. From the Altar to the pews to the front door, all that was left was the barren stone hall, a few young saps beginning to poke their way through the open floor towards the sunlight that shone through the collapsed roof above.

I sighed as I surveyed the decaying building, before turning to the small map in my hand and crossing off another potential landing site. I'd spent the last few hours doing much of the same; biking around the area I believed the Night Fury might have landed in on a 'borrowed' motorcycle, searching potential sites and crossing each one off with greater and greater disappointment.

"God must really hate me for some reason," I muttered aloud as I left the ruin, returning the map to the inner pocket of my tunic. "Some people lose their car keys or reading glasses. Not me though, I only go and lose an entire Dragonoid!" I paused for a moment, "And now I'm talking to myself. Great. Like my Dad doesn't think I'm crazy…enough…"

I trialled off as I rounded the edge of the church. There was something…off about the trees on this side, away from the road. Something had…splintered them. Almost all of them had had what little leaves they had left stripped from their branches. Most however had had their tops taken clean off, the smell of damp smouldering wood hanging in the air. It was almost as though something had…crashed through here recently.

My heart thumping loudly in my chest, I followed the carnage down with my eyes, a nervous hand going for the Browning L9A1 pistol at my side as I took in the vicarage at the eastern end of the graveyard…or rather what was left of it.

Something…big had smashed into it. The house itself was barely standing. Half of it was actually missing, completely blown away by whatever had flown through it, giving me an interesting cross-section of old bathroom plumbing and the last owner's bad taste in living room wallpaper. I gingerly stepped into the ruin, taking care to watch out for any sign that what remained of the vicarage might come crashing down around me. Beyond the wrecked walls, a large overgrown garden sloped gently down the hill towards a river that wriggled its way through the village and out into the valley. Younger trees at planted their roots here, the forest beginning to merge with a cluster of evergreens that had once separated the vicarage from next door's fields across the river. Some would never have the chance to given fully grow however, thanks to having been burnt to a crisp or simply squashed back into the dirt by the machine that lay halfway on its side at the bottom of the garden at the end of a long deep trench of its own making.

"I…I don't believe it."

It had to be _it_. I _knew_ it had to be it. My modified stinger missile was still firmly clamped in place against the onyx armour, long spindly claws holding the device in place, a small blue light above the nose telling me the EMP was still active, sapping the energy from the machine it clung to.

Not just a machine. A Dragonoid. A Dragonoid no human eye had ever seen before.

Ca'furor. Night Fury.

My pistol still raised (for all the good it would do me), I hesitantly approached the fallen mech. It was definitely the same Dragonoid I saw last night. I recognised the stocky body, the long segmented wings and the lethal cannons mounted to the top of the mech and extending out like a long neck. The design was…different compared to other Dragonoids in the database though. A lot of aesthetics seemed to missing or reduced compared to other models. There were no limbs for example, just a long aerodynamic, elongated plate with three landing plates extending from the metal (two sweeping back and a third sweeping forward) that came to a point far out in front of the mech, the eight metre long cannons above a few metres longer. The tails of other Dragonoids was replaced with a simple fin, upright like a plane's, the rear filled up with two large powerful engines, no doubt the reason why the Fury was the most illusive and unknown of our enemy's machines. The head had also been greatly simplified; just a long flat extension mounted under cannons, a pair of machine guns and a single forward facing camera mounted into a point at the front. The cannons themselves were impressive of course; thin yet powerful eight metre long energy weapons that had given the Fury such an infamous record. A closer look however revealed some unusual additions however; a pair cruciform swords had apparently been attached to the outside of each cannon, their hilts and sheaths as black as the armour they were attached to. The only reason I could see for them was decoration, perhaps a threat to any one who actually managed to see the Dragonoid. The only other weapon was what appeared to be a long range cannon mounted to the left hand side under the wing, complete with an auxiliary sight that I presumed allowed for greater accuracy. I found it odd there wasn't one on the other side, but could only assume it had been broken off during the landing.

But I didn't care how strange or unusual the Dragonoid was. I couldn't have caredless if it had eight legs and could sing opera as long it was of Dragonoid creation. What mattered was the Dragonoid before me was downed _by_ me. This Dragonoid, considered the most advanced humanity had ever encountered, had been shot down by the soldier no one thought I could be. I couldn't help but grin as I let a hand run across the rough plates of the Fury's armour.

"I knew it," I murmured quietly. "I just…I knew I'd hit it! This fixes everything!" I peered between the landing plate and the main body. "Dad's never going to believe this, but I did it. Now, how do I get in…ah! Here we go."

Holstering my weapon, I couldn't wipe the grin from my face as my free hand found the emergency release; a small lever hidden beside what appeared to be the entry hatch. It took only three pumps before the hatch reluctantly gave way, opening up to darkness beyond with an angry hiss.

Apprehension slowly took over me as I peered into the gloom, one hand resting on my pistol while the other fished a small torch from my belt. It suddenly dawned on me that I had no idea what I would find inside. Was the pilot alive? Dead? Maybe they were even unconscious. Maybe they were waiting for some gullible idiot to pull the emergency release. Giving them a chance to escape.

I suddenly felt incredibly stupid as I ducked inside and flashed the narrow beam of light into the darkness.

The first thing I noticed was the cramped cockpit was of a duel-seated design; one chair slightly raised above the other, and both facing towards the front of the machine with the entry hatch opening just before the first seat. A trio of screens surrounded each chair, giving each pilot a full one eighty degree view of the world outside. All the controls looked identical for both chairs too. The same two control sticks, the same number of switches and consoles, the same number of screens and so on. Everything was dark now though, the power lost thanks to the EMP generator attached to its side. I shone the light up the rear wall, a pang of surprise flitting through my mind as I noticed the orb embedded at the top of the cockpit was also dark. It was well documented that all Dragonoids were equipped with an Artificial Intelligence to assist in the mech's operations. Also, when a pilot ejected, the A.I. would wipe the memory core of anything that might help the enemy in the war (Dragonoid schematics, troop movements, ways of reaching Washington Crater without being atomised etc), before taking over basic functions and turning the mech it operated into a mindless yet aggressive beast that usually served to distract us while the pilot escaped with its fellows.

I'd never considered that the EMP might have been powerful enough to reach the A.I.'s personal power core, but the fact the orb was as dark as the rest of the cockpit concerned me for a moment.

But I quickly put it out my mind. I had other things to worry about.

Slowly, I turned my attention to the pilots themselves. The name Dragonoid was something that came about from the silhouette of the mechs they piloted rather than from the biology of the species itself. Very few had actually seen a Dragonoid pilot up close and personal. We never found out if they made direct contact with the American government, and what glimpses anyone from The Dome saw were usually of them fleeing as they ejected from their machines.

I had a feeling some people from the Dome Science Academy might be interested in what I'd brought down.

Both pilots were humanoid, both possibly taller than even my father as best I could judge, their long thin bodies encased in loose black jumpsuits, held to their frames by smooth armoured plate around the entire torso and neck, wrists and knee length boots. No skin was left uncovered, even their heads were encased in large helmets with tinted visors connected to a life support system mounted on their backs via a pair of small pipes that wound their way from the front along the bottom of the headpiece.

The pilot in the front seat was clearly dead, its head snapped at a grotesque angle, a light red substance oozing from where the seal between helmet and armour had been broken. Even though he was my enemy, I felt decidedly sick the longer I looked at him. When humans think of the Dragonoids, we think of the monstrous mechs that attack our homes and make our lives miserable. It was quite easy to forget that just like the Vikings, there was something alive inside the armour.

I shook my head bitterly. It didn't matter though. Alive or not, this alien had played a part in the war. It was a part of a species that had killed billions of humans during this conflict. That this alien was dead only meant there was one less Dragonoid pilot out there to worry about. Even though I thought this however…seeing the body didn't make me feel any better.

I turned the light on the co-pilot, propping myself against the top of the pilot's chair. The body lay slumped in its chair, hands lying limp over the armrests, its head resting against a nearby bulkhead with a spider web of cracks along its visor. The same light red substance was dribbled slowly from a gash in alien's left arm, blood I realised now. Aside from this, I couldn't tell if the body was alive or dead. Armoured plate covered the normal places I'd look for a pulse, and the chest piece combined with the darkness made it hard to see if the co-pilot was breathing or not.

If I could just get the helmet off…

Setting the torch on top of the co-pilot's main screen, I slowly reached for the bottom of the helmet, my pistol ready in my free hand.

"Let's see if you're just playing…"

"Demagolka!"

I cried out in alarm as long gloved fingers wrapped themselves around my lower arm, the co-pilot's high voice shrieking in my ears as the body seemed to come alive, fighting against the safety harness I was so glad it was wearing.

"Let go of me!"

"Demagolka! Demagolka!"

"LET GO!"

I smashed the butt of the pistol into the pilot's visor, the creature giving a surprised cry as the glass smashed inward, releasing its grasp and sending me staggering back into a bulkhead. Even though I was seeing stars, I held the pistol firm, bracing myself against the cockpit's side and aiming through the fractured visor.

"Enough!"

The co-pilot froze, acutely aware of the weapon in front of it. In the dim light of the torch, I could see my attack had punched a decent sized hole in the visor, just enough to make out bone white skin and an eye set just enough into the skull to be noticeable. The eye itself was a iris of emerald green surrounded by white, split from top to bottom by a narrow black slit of a pupil. At least I knew it wasn't of this world…unless it was a highly evolved cat. The co-pilot stared at me for a moment more, its breathing coming out in heavy pants as its free hand clung to its wounded arm. Suddenly the single eye I could see noticed the corpse of its comrade behind me.

"Alor…" it moaned quietly, "Gar…gar kyrayc te Alor…"

I frowned agitatedly. The Dragonoid's language wasn't exactly something we were taught as in school. We didn't even have any portable translators or even a Dragonoid to English dictionary. The thought that a human being and a Dragonoid alien would ever speak face to face was…unfathomable to most of us. It was clear who it was talking about though.

"I think you should worry more about yourself than your friend," the co-pilot snapped back to me as I spoke coldly. "At least _it__'__s_ dead, but don't worry, you're not going to be around much longer either."

The eye watched me carefully, a studying gaze I didn't like.

"Copaani gar…chaab?"

"Don't try and talk you way out of it!" I bared my teeth angrily. "This is for every failure I've had to endure, every death you've caused in battle, I…I'm going to kill you,"

The co-pilot's unblinking stare was stirring something inside me. The more we held each other's gaze, the more hollow this victory felt. I tried to shake the feeling off.

"I'm going to kill you. Do you understand?" my gun wielding hand was shaking, to the point I had to reinforce it. "I'm going to kill you, and take your corpse back to The Dome. Then everyone will see I am a soldier. I AM A SOLDIER GOD DAMMIT!"

The co-pilot continued to watch me, standing before it with both hands shaking, trying to keep my gun shooting straight.

"Ni vaabir'naas…copaanir ramaanar."

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" I couldn't help but scream, "STOP STARING AT ME!"

I tried to will my finger to pull the trigger. It felt like I was throwing all my might into one simple movement, but no matter how hard I tried, my hand refused to obey.

That eye…what was this beast doing to me? This should be so easy! After everything Dragonoids have done, why had it suddenly become so hard to shoot one pathetic pilot?

"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE ALIVE! WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST HAVE DIED ON IMPACT! WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE ALREADY!"

The co-pilot watched me only for a moment more, before turning its head away, its eyes closed.

"Ni…chaab Alor."

I felt my hands go slack. My anger, my fear…every just seemed to go numb. I let my gun wielding hand fall to my side, the Browning pistol falling to the floor with a clatter as I rubbed a hand over my face.

"Like a mirror," I muttered into my palm. "Just like a damn mirror. That's…that's just not fair."

I felt my knees buckle as the realisation sunk, my body falling to the metallic deck space beside the chairs as my hands rubbed the cold sweat from my face. I felt the Dragonoid pilot's eyes on me again.

"I…can't do it," I looked up at it miserably. "I did all this. I came so far. And I can't do it. I can't kill you. I don't…want to kill you. I don't…want to kill anyone."

I let my head fall forward against the edge of the co-pilot's seat with a heavy thump. I suddenly felt so…drained. Everyone was right about me. My Dad, Gobber, Astrid and my squad. They could all see what I couldn't. I was no soldier. I wasn't like them. I was…  
My mind went blank as I felt something push against my head, my hat falling to the floor as I felt long fingers sift through my dark hair.

"Aht ar chaab…la aht kar'tayl gar copaani oyacyir."

I looked up at into the face of my enemy, but to try and understand it was impossible with only one eye to go by. Its words sounded…comforting somehow. Like it was trying to console me somehow.

I sighed again, letting a surprising wave of calmness wash over me. So I wasn't a soldier. Dad was probably going to be ecstatic.

Slowly I got to my feet, my hands groping around in the dark for my hat and pistol as I did so. The co-pilot's hand fell away as I got to my full height, but I could feel it watching me as I holstered the weapon and set my hat back on my head. Now I was at a loss as to what I could do now. I had a downed Dragonoid and a live pilot to deal with. My first thought was to deploy a beacon from the cycle and just wait for someone to find me, but for some reason this idea made me feel hollow inside. Then I considered just leaving and pretending I'd never found the Fury, but the thought of leaving the downed mech and its pilot to the elements, where the chances were good it might die of its injuries made me feel even more sick.

Which left option three.

Picking up the torch, I shook my head as I turned away from the bemused alien.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

* * *

"Oh yeah…I built this thing…_way_ too well."

For the past five minutes, the vicarage garden had been filled with the sounds of rock against metal as I pounded the legs that held the EMP stinger missile in place. Basic training had told me while building the device that Dragonoids had the horrible ability to recharge their power supplies within a short space of time. A constant EM field was therefore necessary to keep a mechs down. With this in mind, I'd designed the stinger's legs to hold the missil in place until the Night Fury could be properly secured. The last thing I really wanted was the damn thing falling off during transport, potentially letting loose one of the most powerful Dragonoid's ever seen in a bestial A.I. controlled form inside The Dome.

Right now though, I wish I'd been a bit more stupid. The legs themselves weren't even really what I was trying to reach.

With sweat trickling down my face, I let a grin spread as one of the legs finally gave way, the limb spitting sparks angrily as I pulled it away from the main body, giving me access to the thing I actually needed to destroy.

"Six months of planning and building…all put to waste because I'm not the person I want to be," I panted heavily, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "I should have just listened to Dad…It would've…saved me a whole lot of exercise."

Throwing all my weight into one final blow, I smashed the rock down against the main body of my precious device, the blue light winking out with a pathetic whimper as the casing cracked under the assault.

As the EMP died, the Night Fury began to thrum with energy. I gave it about ten seconds before it reached a decent strength, after which I expected the co-pilot to just go back to Washington Crater and do whatever it was supposed to do. My Dad was going to kill me if he ever found out, but as far as I could see, this was the only way for me to clear my conscious. After all, it was my stinger that brought down the Fury and killed her…Alor (Was that a name or a rank?). I let it live and go home, maybe it would let me do the same.

That was my last thought…before a hand almost squashed me.

My surprised cry was lost in the sound of moving gears as fists extended from what I'd thought to be afterburners, large metal fingers, the biggest easily my father's height crushing dead leaves and soil as it hoisted the Fury's frame upward. From the rear, those large powerful engines extended out and down, rotating a complete one hundred and eighty degrees as the ends flatted into feet the size of humvees. As the Dragonoid slowly pushed itself up onto those feet, the cannons separated further and arced almost gracefully over the top of the machine to now point towards the ground, the segmented wings folding into one another until they resembled those of angels I'd seen in pictures. Large shoulder blades extended outward and locked into place as the Fury's hands left pulled the plate from its front, holding it on its arm to form an aerodynamic shield, the right hand pulling the long range cannon from its mount to form something I could only describe as a mecha sized assault rifle. Finally, as the pointed plate sunk between the shoulder blades, one last transformation rotated into view; a long thin pointed humanoid head, vents on its 'cheeks' melding into the vulcan cannons on either side, parallel with its thin dark green visor. The whole transformation had taken less than thirty seconds. If it had been at full power, I had no doubt it would probably have done it in a quarter of that time.

I couldn't speak, I couldn't even move. It had to be at least eighteen metres tall, towering over the trees as its yellow eyes surveyed the country side around it.

Then the Fury turned its gaze on me…and raised the rifle to my body.

"No…no way." I stumbled back, my feet tripping over the discarded rock that had liberated the Dragonoid as I stared down the rifle's barrel. "Y…you can't…I…"

The Night Fury continued to stare down at me as I struggled to form sentences. Had it all just been a trick? A ploy to get me to remove the EMP? A hundred different thoughts and memories flashed though my mind as I tried to press myself into the dirt, the Fury's green visor burning bright.

"_Vaabir naas shekemir ni…lenedat."_

Something roared, but no light burst forth from the rifle as I'd expected. From the thrusters on its back, I shielded my eyes as the Dragonoid turned Humanoid rose up into the air, trees and bits of building flying everywhere as the mech screamed into the sky.

I…I was alive. I'd just looked down the barrel of a energy rifle and I was alive…

And I suddenly felt faint…

Oh dear…

I collapsed back onto the dirt, the world going black as my eyes rolled up into my head.

* * *

_DATE: JULY 7th, 239 A.D.E.  
__TIME: 2308 HOURS  
__LOCATION: DOME OUTSKIRTS_

"Where do you think they're from?"

"Who?"

Astrid didn't look at me. Her dark blue eyes fixed on the stars above the tree line. I still wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to drag me out here in the middle of the night. I remember a warm hand in mind and a pretty smile…I guess when you're seven that's all it really took. So here we were, the cool metal side of The Dome against our backs with nothing but the moon and the stars above to light our way.

"The Dragonoids," my friend hugged her knees to her chest. "Which star do you think they're from?"

I frowned, turning my gaze to the inky blackness, a trillion points of light shining softly back at me.

They…all looked the same to me.

"What does it matter where they came from?" I replied huffily, not wanting to look stupid. "They're here now, arn't they?"

"I just wonder what they were like before they got here," the girl shrugged. "I mean, were they this aggressive at home? Did they just attack each other until there was only one faction left?"

"My Dad says they were always like that."

"Your Dad's a Colonel in the Military Police." Astrid gave me a sideways smirk, her pigtails flopping to one side. "He's _supposed_ to say things like that. We don't know though. If they really were like this before, why did they wait fifty years to attack us?"

I frowned quietly. I wanted to tell her my Dad's theory about how the Dragonoids were just letting humanity get used to us, but I thought she'd just remind me he was a Colonel again.

"What can we do though?" I asked instead. "They keep attacking us, and we have to fight back."

"What if we didn't fight back?"

"We'd be dead."

"No, I mean like what Miss Gothi and _my _Dad says," Astrid sighed impatiently. "What if we just tried to talk to them?"

I frowned, "It's kinda hard to talk to someone when their shooting at you."

"I guess so," she nodded thoughtfully. "But what if we tried to talk to them _before_ they started shooting though? What if asked them why they were shooting us in the first place?"

I paused, tapping a single finger against my chin.

"We'd have to talk _really_ quickly."

Astrid laughed, and I felt a fluttering sensation in my stomach as she did so, "I guess so. My Dad's really confident though. We have the technology to do basic translations of Dragonoid language. If he gets into office next year, he's going to work on a way to send a message to Washington Crater. He and Miss Gothi say they're going to find out why the Dragonoids attacked us. Maybe this was all just a big mistake or…"

Her thought was lost as the wail of alarm bells sounded from one of the far off outposts. I stood up slowly as the nose grew louder, more and more Outposts joining the noise until 83RK sounded just a mile or two away.

"Dragonoid attack," I stated the obvious as The Dome itself seemed to answer her outlying installations with an equally mournful note. I turned back to Astrid as she cast a wary gaze towards the horizon, offering her a hand. "Come on, we should get back inside before our parents…"

* * *

"Wake up!"

Something hard and encased in leather smacked me across the face, my eyes seeing stars as I returned to the world of the living. I was still in the Vicarage garden I realised, my back wet from lying on the damp soil, bits of leaf and twig clinging to my hair.

"…Ow…" I rubbed my jaw sourly as I looked up at my attacker, "I'm pretty sure that constitutes as physical abuse…Ma'am."

Astrid smirked down at me, adjusting her driving gloves with an air of satisfaction.

"No witnesses Private, and rank hath its privileges."

I merely scowled as I brushed the foliage from my head and clothes. Just like her call sign, Astrid's rank was proof of how well she had adapted to serving with the Military Police. She had changed so much, and I'd long ago decided it wasn't for the better.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked hotly.

"I could ask you the same thing," the smirk disappeared as I stood up. "You've been off the radar for over two hours. The only reason I found you is because you didn't turn off your bike's IFF…"

"I am allowed to disappear for a few hours when I'm off duty…"

"Not when General McKrillen is looking for you, you don't."

"Oh." I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't realise I was supposed to be confined to The Dome this time."

"You're not. You're suspension has been lifted." Something tightened in Astrid's jaw as though she disapproved of something. "The General _apparently_ feels that it was the Night Fury's attack that did the most damage to the attack ring, the Nightmare just sent it over the edge…as it were."

"So…he's says it's only _partly _my fault?"

The Sergeant scowled, "Obviously."

I winced slightly under her gaze. Clearly my superior didn't agree, but wasn't going to argue the point if it potentially meant a black mark on her squad's record.

"So what were you doing out here?" I felt my heart quicken in panic as Astrid turned to look at the destruction the Night Fury had brought to the overgrown garden. "Looks like something exploded or something. I better not find any C-4 missing from 83RK's armoury…"

"No, it wasn't anything like that," I replied hurriedly, trying to act calm. "I…last night I thought I saw a Dragonoid go down near here. I decided to use my free time to see if I could find it. When I got here though…" I smiled sheepishly, "I kind of…fell over a rock."

It was a half truth really. Everything happened, with just a few missing facts to cover up the fact I'd let one of out most advanced foes fly off over the horizon. Astrid didn't look back at me as she touched the ion blasted ground where the Fury had taken off, her eyes thankfully overlooking the large footprints in the ground, now half covered by dead leaves and twigs blown in from the wind.

"Well, something was here, but its gone now," the Sergeant sighed as she stood up, not noticing my shoulders slump in relief behind her. "Shame. If it survived a crash like this, we might have been able to have salvaged something if you'd gotten here sooner." she smirked over her shoulder. "You might have actually done something right for once."

"Thank you…Ma'am."

"Alright, enough dawdling." evidently my sarcasm wasn't helpful as the smirk once again disappeared, my Sergeant pushing past me towards the church as she spoke. "Get your ass back to The Dome Private. You know how the General gets if you're late."

I didn't reply, not until she was over the crest of the hill and I heard her motorcycle roar to life and take her away from me.

"By your command…Astrid."

* * *

_TIME: 1243 HOURS  
__LOCATION: __THE DOME, CENTRAL TOWER, MILITARY POLICE HEADQUARTERS, GENERAL MCKRILLEN'S OFFICE_

"You wanted to see me…General?"

"Ah, Alex! Come in, come in."

I couldn't help but feel slightly worried as my Dad waved me in, what appeared to be an attempt at an easy smile plastered on his face. Either it was my birthday and no body told me, or my ever loving father was about to tell me something I wasn't going to like.

"As…Sergeant Hofferson said you wanted to see me."

"Yes. Yes I did," Stoic actually stood up as he indicated to the chair before his desk. Now I was slightly scared. "I erm…I was thinking about what we…discussed this morning."

"Oh…right," I winced slightly as I lowered myself into the small leather chair. "That's…that's good actually. I've been thinking about…what you said…" I trailed off as Stoic gave me a surprised look, "…but…you're the General, so I guess you should go first."

"Alright," I watched uneasily as my Dad walked around the edge of his desk, an ominous creaking coming from the legs as he lent up against the edge of it. "Recently it has come to my attention that you lack certain…attributes that other soldiers have," he glanced at me, taking in my disbelieving gaze. His shoulders slumped. "Alright I've _always _known you lack certain attributes the other soldiers have. However _recently_, I've come to believe this might be more to do with a lack of training rather than you simply being…you."

"Thanks…I guess."

Stoic ignored me, "So, I've decided to do something about it. You want to be a soldier, fine. You and Nu Squad have been selected for the Assault Frame training."

My heart stopped. My mouth went dry.

"Oh," was all I could say.

"You're speechless," my father laughed. "First time for everything."

"Yeah, there's a reason for that." I cleared my throat, trying to shake myself out of stupor as I fiddled with the brim of my hat. "Dad…some things…happened while I was out today, and I realised you were right. You were _all_ right. I'm just not cut out for the Military Police. I can't…couldn't kill a Dragonoid even if you knelt one before me and a pistol in my hand…"

"Oh dear. I was too hard on you earlier wasn't I?" to watch the muscular mass that was my Dad fret over whether or not he'd been a bad parent this morning might have been amusing had the situation been different. "No son, I was wrong. You've always wanted to kill Dragonoids, and I was wrong to try and stop what was obviously a natural urge" he smiled comfortingly as he set a heavy hand on my shoulder, "and now I'm giving you the best way to do it."

"Dad, I really think putting me in a seventy ton war machine is a _really _bad idea…"

"And I disagree." I flinched as my father's voice took a cold tone. "From this point forward, you are going to train to be the best soldier you can. When you wear that uniform, you represent all those that wear it, all those that protect The Dome and her citizens. That means you walk like us, talk like us, _think_ like us. And as a Viking pilot, you will finally be able to lose all of…" he waved a hand in my direction, "this."

"You just gestured to all of me!"

The General ignored my indignant look, "Training begins at 0800 hours on the 22nd. Before then you need to get fitted for a pilot suit and read up on the training manual. Train hard son," his voice grew soft, his hand patting me good naturedly on the shoulder as he went to grab his coat. "I'm going out on an operation into the Atlantic. I'll be back just after Christmas if all goes well."

"That's…great Dad," I sighed as I slumped down in the chair in resignation. "I might even be here to welcome you back…if all goes well."

* * *

Dragonoid language translations are below the Author Notes because they're filled with possible spoilers (Although considering you've seen the film they probably won't spoil you that much). I think this will be the way I do things for the moment, because what I consider non-spoilers might spoil the story or others.

**Author Notes  
**Of all the Dragonoids and characters I had to design, the equivalent for Toothless was probably the hardest. The Night Fury was always going to be a Dragonoid (the mech, not the alien), but this led to the problem that I couldn't use even half the bonding scenes between Toothless and Hiccup from the film because Toothless was now a giant robot and last I checked, mobile suit sized machines very rarely start acting like cats/dogs/horses etc. in any other anime I've ever seen.  
As such, Toothless' character has been split into two main halves; The Night Fury Dragonoid itself makes up main body, and the co-pilot makes up the personality. Exactly what repairs need to be done and how Alex becomes the Night Fury's pilot will be revealed at a later date (and that's only if I decide to continue it). Aside from Toothless providing the basic outline for the machine, the Night Fury's design took most of its inspiration from the Vent Saviour Gundam of Gundam SEED Destiny VS ASTRAY, which gave me a good example of a transformation sequence that was simple and relatively easy to describe (compared to other transformable mechs like the Zeta Gundam or the battlroid fighters from the Macross series.). The wings however were inspired by those found on the Freedom Gundam of Gundam Seed. I experimented with something that looked like Toothless' wings, but the only way I could make them work was if they had some kind of fabric between them, and that felt a little too…archaic for a futuristic alien race. Lastly, the humanoid head itself is loosely inspired by the Delta Plus' head from the Gundam Unicorn novels and OVA. If I'm honest, I'm not sure how many people will like the fact The Night Fury's humanoid mode. The transformation is important to the back-story I'm developing however, so I'll go into further detail at a later date if I continue the story.  
Well, that's all from me. Thanks to everyone whose reviewed, faved and alerted this story so far. I'll post one more chapter next week, and then I'll make my decision.  
See you next week then,  
Dearing

**DRAGONOID TRANSLATIONS  
BEWARE OF POSSIBLE SPOILERS!  
**  
"Demagolka!"  
(Monster!)

"Demagolka! Demagolka!"  
(Monster! Monster!)

"Alor…Gar…gar kyrayc te Alor…"  
(Superior….you you killed the Superior)

"Copaani gar…chaab?"  
(Are you…afraid?)

"Ni vaabir'naas…copaanir ramaanar."  
(I don't…want to die.)  
Note: Want and to both use the same word for some reason. Rather than repeat myself, Dragonoids just uses the word once when saying 'want to'

"Ni…chaab Alor."  
(I'm…afraid Superior.)

"Aht ar chaab…la aht kar'tayl gar copaani oyacyir."  
(To be scared…is to know you are alive.)

"Vaabir naas shekemir ni, lenedat."  
(Do not follow me, target.)  
Note: the use of target is to emphasise the speaker won't hesitate to kill.


	4. Second Contact

**SECTION 03  
****SECOND CONTACT**

_DATE: NOVEMBER 16, 250 A.D.E.  
__TIME: 0751 HOURS  
__LOCATION: THE DOME, EAST SECTOR SEVEN, MOBILE FORTRESS HARBOUR, DOCKING PORT THREE_

I wasn't surprised to find the Harbour in organised chaos. All around me, men and women were hurriedly running about, going through last minute checks and loading of supplies of the mobile fortress that sat in the docking port, the sounds of shouted orders and fork lifts mingling with the mechanical groans of the six Vikings as their pilots loaded them into the boxy Assault Frame Transports, three to a craft.

I sighed as I gazed up at the large war-craft that overshadowed everything around it. The mobile fortresses themselves were a pride of the Military Police; a massive warship-like hovercraft capable of travelling across both land and sea. The Cerberus class was the smaller of the two classes currently employed. Like the twenty two other fortresses of her type, the _CMF Dauntless _was an irregular L shape, two hundred and three metres in length and weighing in at around 22,500 metric tons. She was designed primarily as a destroyer and escort for the larger Odin class dreadnaughts; a pair of double barrelled 16" turrets, each sixty six feet long, mounted to each side of the vessels island providing the primary heavy fire while a third was mounted behind to provide addition support to the rear. Other armaments mounted to various parts of this behemoth of engineering included fourteen AA batteries, seven surface to air missile launchers and a medium sized hanger to the rear of the craft with enough room to house five additional Viking Assault Frames. They had been designed with the intention of forcing their way onto American soil to create a proper foothold for the larger fortresses to make their landing, so you can imagine it was fairly ironic that most had never left their berths, let alone ventured out into the sea itself.

I sighed again as I slumped onto a bench near one of the gangways, tired of being pushed around or shoved to one side by people with actual jobs to do. I was worried, I wouldn't deny that. Sure my Dad and I didn't always get along, but I didn't want to see him on the MIA list…or even the KIA list. Nearby, the last few soldiers were saying goodbye to their families and loved ones. Several of my squad mates were here. I watched Fishlegs as he hugged his dad, then tried to stop a dark smirk from spreading across my face as Snotlout burst dramatically into tears, his father hesitantly trying to keep him quiet while his mother watched on in resignation. I felt a bit guilty for grinning though. No mission beyond the Isles' shores had ever come back without casualties of some kind. I couldn't see Astrid, but then again I really had no reason too.

A shadow passed over me, and I looked up to see the stern features of my own dad. Stoic stared down at me quietly, looking half surprised that I'd even shown up to see him off. Truth be told I was a little surprised myself, even though I'd come down to the harbour every time the General had left The Dome since I had been able to walk on my own two feet. I wasn't expecting any tearful goodbyes or heartfelt hugs though. General McKrillen was not about to get sappy in front of his men after all, not even if he for his own son. The fact our conversation last night was still weighing on our minds probably wasn't helping the situation.

"I'll be back," he finally said, turning to face the _Dauntless_, "probably."

Did he always have to be so dramatic?

"And I'll be here," I replied wearily as I stood up from the bench, "maybe."

That was about as close as I was going to get to a goodbye. At least when Gobber went off with him I got a cuff round the shoulder from my Superior, maybe a joke about his undies (don't ask).

Speaking of which…

"Is tha' it?" the Major lumbered up to the two of us with a disbelieving look. "The two of ya just gonna stand there 'til ya ship off?"

"Probably," we both replied simultaneously.

Gobber sighed, rubbing an undamaged hand across his face and muttering curses under his breath. He turned to Stoic with a tight smile.

"Alex would no doubt like ta tell ya that 'e'll miss ye, an' wishes tha' ye'll take out tha' god-f'saken Dragonoid installation, so ya can ease up a bit an' stop taken ya frustrations out on everyone, namely ya poor best friend Fred," he looked to me for confirmation. I shrugged nonchalantly. He gave me a nonplussed look before continuing to me. "Ya Dad would probably like ta thank ya for ya concern, an' would like ta add he'll miss ya too. So train hard, don' throw a house party, an' e'll do 'is best not to become a smouldering crater on an Greenlandic beach somewhere."

"We're soldiers," Stoic muttered, just loud enough to be heard. "It's an occupational hazard."

"We're soldiers," Gobber grinned, glad to have gotten a reaction from someone. "It's an occupational hazard!"

"I said that part."

"Oh." the grin was quickly replaced with a scowl as Stoic headed towards the gangway, "Well ex_cuse_ me for tryin' ta help, Princess."

The General ignored his friend, preferring to give me one last piercing stare. Finally, he turned to Gobber, "I want him back in one piece, understand?"

He didn't even wait for a reply. All I could do was watch as he strode up the gangplank, the _Dauntless_ thrumming with energy as the large harbour doors yawned open ahead.

"Don' worry about it Lad," I felt the heavy synthetic hand on my shoulder as I watched the fortress and its transports leave. "E'll be alright."

I shook my head as I pushed past the Major.

"To be honest," I replied grimly, "it's not him I'm worried about."

* * *

_DATE: NOVEMBER 22, 250 A.D.E.  
__TIME: 0803 HOURS  
__LOCATION: ENGLAND, MILITARY POLICE ACADEMY ASSAULT FRAME TRAINING ARENA_

"Welcome to AF Training lads an' lasses."

I adjusted the pilot suit's chest plate for the hundredth time as I lagged behind the rest of Nu Squad who strode eagerly into the Arena, my shoulders already aching from what was supposed to be lightweight armour. The dark green jumpsuit itself was fine; loose enough to be comfortable and held to the body by black fingerless driving gloves, mid-calf boots and a belt around the middle. It was the armour that was annoying me; a solid plate of onyx that extended over my upper chest, back and shoulders, as well as a matching helmet that encapsulated everything down to the neck, save for my face and chin and incorporated the radio headset into its structure. When you'd spent most of your military career in uniforms and maintenance overalls, wearing armour of any kind felt alien to me, even if it was padded on the inside.

The others seemed to be taking it in their stride. Astrid took the lead, walking purposefully towards where Gobber stood in the centre of the Arena. Snotlout was just behind her, helmet under his arm, the usual arrogant grin on his face as he tried to walk as coolly as he could in front of his Sergeant. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were next, for once more interested in their surroundings then knocking each others' brains out, with Fishlegs trailing just behind, close enough to be a seen as part of the group, but far enough from me to tell everyone he wasn't with me.

The Arena itself was a fairly large complex around a half-hour drive from The Dome nestled in the nearby forests so as to be kept an unassuming target. As its name suggested, its primary purpose was for the training of Assault Frame pilots, and as such had enough room for six Vikings to move about in various tactical scenarios. It was a massive hall that encapsulated you within concrete and steel, the mech sized doors at either end leading off to the Assault Frame hangers making me feel rather small as we approached the centre.

"I hope I get some serious plasma burns!" I heard Tuffnut proclaim eagerly as he tossed his helmet up and down.

"I'm kinda hoping for some mauling," his sister shrugged indifferently. "You know, something for the shoulder or lower back."

The more I listened to the Thornston twins, the more I became concerned about the sanity of the refugee districts' children.

"Yeah sure," I smiled slightly as Astrid's sarcastic voice echoed up into the cavernous Arena, "it's only fun if your get a scar out of it."

"No kidding," I muttered quietly under my breath. "Pain: _love_ it."

Not quiet enough apparently. The entire squad turned towards me, their face betraying their obvious surprise that I was following them. Only Astrid didn't turn around. She just kept walking.

"Oh great," Tuffnut spoke up, his narrow features scrunching up in disgust. "Who let you in?"

"I _am_ a part of Nu Squad," I replied bitterly, adding silently, _"__And believe me, I don__'__t want to be here any more than you do.__"_

"Since when?" Snotlout snorted, glancing back to see if Astrid was watching. "Never see you on fire duty. Never see you run drills with us. You sure you're even with the Military Police?"

"Alrigh', tha's enough of tha' " Gobber's impatient voice interrupted any comment I might have thought of. Astrid had already reached him and the small pile of equipment lying beside his cybernetic foot. "Fall in, all of ya. Ya not 'ere ta fight each other after all."

I ignored the grumbling of my fellow 'comrades' as we fell into single file in front of the Major, helmets under our arms with me standing quietly beside Fishlegs. I had learned before even joining the Military Police I wasn't welcome with these people.

"I guess first congrats are in order," Gobber's dark grin was hardly a welcoming one as he strode down the line. "Ye just one of five other squads that've been selected for this course, so be proud ye've gotten this far. But if ya lucky, this might jus' be the start of ya glorious careers! Ta make things a little more interestin', we've decided to grant the top ranking trainee of all five squads a promotion to commissioned officer status, as well as the honour of destroying their first Dragonoid in front of the brass, the Dome Council…an' anyone else who want's ta watch really."

Embarrassing myself in front of almost anyone from The Dome was hardly what I called a decent prize. Still, the likelihood of even getting into the top five list for me was remote, and I planned to keep it that way. I just wanted to get through this thing in one piece. The others save Astrid were grinning at each other eagerly, Snotlout whispering to Tuffnut about all the wonderful things he could do with an officer's salary. Our Sergeant merely kept staring ahead, a determined look on her face. If anyone was going to get that promotion, I'd wager my own salary for a year that Astrid would take it hands down.

"Don' look so worried lad," I glanced at Gobber as he took advantage of the excitement he'd brewed up. "Ya small an' weak. That'll make ye less of a target."

"Less of a target?" I asked exasperatedly. "I'm being shoved into a fifty-five foot tall mech! How exactly will I look any different from these guys?"

"Ah, Dragonoids are good at sniffin' out the weak from the strong," the Major grinned. "They'll see ya as sick or insane an' focus on the more soldiery teens."

I would have questioned the logic behind the statement had the Major not turned to walk back down the line.

Wait a minute…did he say Dragonoids?

"Within this Arena, ye'll learn ta operate Vikings through fighting Dragonoids we have captured that are controlled by the onboard A.I." I felt the blood drain from my face as Gobber continued to talk like he was describing the weather. "They might fight more aggressively than what ye'll face on the battlefield, but we feel tha' it's best to see these beasties at their worst, so anythin' else will be a breeze for ya when the time comes."

Again, I felt the flaws in this logic were staggering.

"Over the next few weeks, ye'll all fight models of Dragonoid that have been attackin' The Dome within the pas' decade, including the Nadder class Scout…"

"Speed rating: seven. Threat Level Omega," I glanced at Fishlegs beside me as the teen went into automatic pilot.

"…the Zippleback assault tank…"

"Armour rating: eight. Threat Level Omega."

"…the Nightmare Command unit…"

"Weapon rating: ten. Threat Level: Omega."

"…the Terror attack drone…"

"Stealth rating: nine. Threat Level…Omph!"

"Omega," I gave my sometimes-friend a dark look as I elbowed him sharply in the ribs, "I got it."

"…an' finally," the Major wondered away from the group to a secure looking booth mounted into the Arena's wall, "the mainstay unit, Gronckle class."

"Mobility rating: three. Threat Level…" I fixed Patrick with a hard stare, "…sorry."

"So what are we waiting for?" Snotlout asked impatiently. "Bring out the Vikings! Let's get this party started!"

"Ah, no' yet." Gobber grinned as he entered the booth. "Firs' ye gotta learn ta survive a Dragonoid attack _withou__'__ a_ Viking ta fall back on."

I suddenly felt very afraid, "And how are we going to do that?"

"_Tha's the thing ya see,"_ Gobber's voice came over the Arena's sound system as a pair of doors groaned open, _"I believe in learn' on the job!"_

From within the darkness beyond, the sound of metallic clamps and EMP generators disengaging echoed through the Arena, followed swiftly by the heavy hum of a Dragonoid's power returning to it.

* * *

As it slowly moved out of the gloom, Astrid felt an eager grin spread across her face.

The Gronckle was the workhorse of the Dragonoids; a heavily armoured mech cast in bark brown and held in the air by six long wings three to a side beating fast to the point they were blurs at the Dragonoid's sides, a series of manoeuvring jets along the main body making sure the mech maintained stability. Its purpose was to provide heavy hitting power where it was needed, something it gladly provided via the two large energy turrets mounted to its sides and the plasma mortar slung to the underbelly just behind the bulbous head that housed the cockpit. The red eyed camera was darting around the circular strip in the front of its head, eying each of the six humans before it, locking onto Astrid last.

The girl continued to grin as she strapped her helmet to her head. She was prepared for this. Fishlegs wasn't the only one who'd studied up on Dragonoids.

"So…is it just going to sit there or…"

Snotlout was rewarded for speaking up with the first energy blast of the attack, the shot missing him by inches as the terrified soldier leapt clear.

"_Today is about survival,"_ Gobber's cheerful voice was barely heard over the roar of the Gronckle's rear thrusters as the squad scattered across the arena. _"If ya get blasted, ya dead! So lads an' lasses, ya on the battlefield with only downed Vikings in sight. Whatcha gonna do?"_

"_Find a medic?"_ Astrid heard Hiccup call over the radio.

"_Run for you your life?"_ Fishlegs squealed as a second blast narrowly missed his head.

"Find cover."

"_Points ta Sergeant Hofferson."_ she was already running for the pile of equipment as Gobber congratulated her. _"If ya caught on the battlefield with ya trousers down, cover or a shield will become ya best friend. A Viking in experienced hands can be started up in around thirty seconds. If ya hav' the choice between a downed AF or cover, _take_ the cover!"_

Astrid already had a riot shield in hand as the Gronckle fired again, the ground shaking from the blast as the others hurriedly followed her lead.

"_Get your hands off my shield!"_ the Sergeant looked back irritably as Ruffnut and Tuffnut began to squabble over the radio.

"_There's like a million other shields!"_

"_Take _that_ one. Someone drew a flower on it. Girls like that…"_

The sexist remark was cut short by the sound of riot shield against helmet.

"_Oops. Now it has blood on it…"_

"_PLASMA MORTAR!"_

Hiccup's voice came moments before a burning ball of purple separated the twins, the riot shield fizzing away into a molten lump of plastic as the pair were blown clear from the blast.

"_Corporals Thornston, ya both out." _the Major seemed almost gleeful as the twins lay bemused and semiconscious on the floor. _"Riot shields were obviously not designed ta deflect advanced alien weaponry, so try ta avoid direct hits. Speaking of Dragonoid tech, a plasma mortar has a limited number of shots depending on the mech mounting it. Any o' ya bright sparks out there know how many a Gronckle can fire off?"_

"_Five?"_ asked Snotlout hesitantly as another energy blast sent the splinters of a destroyed barricade scattering across his shield.

"_No, six!"_

"_Correct! That's one for each of ya! Points ta Corporal Ingerman…"_ Astrid smirked as another plasma blast struck home against the large boy's shield, Fishlegs dropping the fizzling mess with a girlish scream before taking off across the Arena, _"…An' points deducted. Ya out! McKrillen, get out there!"_

The Sergeant glanced over to where Hiccup sat hunched behind his shield near the edge of the Arena behind one of the barricades, pulling the protective slab closer to his head every time the Dragonoid even came remotely close to his position. She rolled her eyes in disgust. The battlefield was no place for a coward.

The Dragonoid smashed into the wall over the dressing room entrance as Fishlegs bolted through it. Astrid took advantage of its disorientation, leaping over the top of one of the barricades to come down with a heavy thump against the concrete on the other side.

"Oh, hey Sarge!" she had to use all of her willpower to stop herself from cringing as Snotlout's eager voice met her ears. Of all the barricades she had to choose…, "So anyway, I'm moving into my parents basement. I got some weights for my birthday last year, maybe you should come by some time to work out…" The Gronckle had no doubt caught sight of her attempted escape, as it had turned away from its wall-side crater and was heading straight toward her, the mortar glowing its bright purple as she calmly counted the seconds. "I mean you look like you work out so I thought…"

Whatever Snotlout had thought of her was lost in a combination of her leaping clear and the sounds of a barricade being reduced to splinters. Astrid only glanced back to make sure the Corporal was unhurt (A faint burbled groan confirmed it), before sprinting across the Arena to where Hiccup sat crouched before the Dragonoid had realised where she'd gone.

The only Private under her command was clinging to his riot shield like he might fall apart without it. His face was paper white, his breathing coming out in deep gasps even though she suspected he hadn't moved very far from where he sat.

"Are you just going to sit back here until the Dragonoid calls uncle?" Astrid asked casually.

"Probably," Hiccup gave her an irritated glare. "Are you going to keep hopping around the Arena like a flea on coffee until…" she smirked as his face fell with realisation. "You came over here on purpose didn't you."

"Yep."

The pair dived in opposite directions as the barricade exploded.

Astrid was laughing as she watched Hiccup scramble to find new cover, his riot shield half burned away. Only one shot left now. She ran confidently across the concrete floor. The first day of training hadn't even ended and already she had shown everyone there why she had been made sergeant of Nu Squad…

Such contented feelings quickly vanished as she heard the sound of the Gronckle's energy cannons at the far end of the arena, followed quickly by a panicked Gobber screaming Hiccup's name.

* * *

"_What a wonderful day I'm having,"_ was the sarcastic thought that came to mind as the wind was crushed from my lungs against the arena floor. _"My pilot suit is trying to crush me, my instructor is trying to kill me, and my fri…sergeant is trying to help him along. What a _wonderful_ day to be alive."_

The thrum of the Gronckle's wings was loud in my ears as I pushed myself back onto my feet and forced them into motion towards the exit. I could feel the Dragonoid's camera on the back of my head, the down draft of wing movement and manoeuvring jets against my back pushing me to run even faster. I was almost there, just a few feet more…

A second energy blast caused the ground to explode beneath my feet, the sheer concussion force throwing me heavily into the wall back first, before crumpling into a broken heap on the floor

"…Ow…" I felt the shadow of the Gronckle over me, its single red camera looking down at me like a predator moving in for the kill. Somehow, being blasted at point blank range by a plasma mortar on my first day of training wasn't how I imagined I'd leave this world.

"_Mav gar sushir?"_

I blinked in surprise as the metallic monotone voice spoke from within the Gronckle. The Dragonoid hovered above me, its camera somehow looking less threatening. The turrets were pointed away from me, the plasma mortar powered down.

"_Mav gar sushir?"_ it repeated, just loud enough for me to hear.

"I…I don't…"

Something exploded against the Gronckle's side, the Dragonoid rocking from the blast as heavy footfalls announced the arrival of a Viking Assault Frame.

"_Tha's enough fo taday ya overgrown toaster!"_ Gobber's voice resonated from the mech's external speakers as it unloaded another round from the smoothbore cannon into the Dragonoid's side, _"Wait for 'em ta pilot the Vikings, then ye'll get another chance."_

The Gronckle turned towards the Assault Frame almost angrily, but any attack was cut short as it found itself caught in the large cables fired over it by the Arena's Dragonoid handlers. I watched in confused awe as the team of two yellow clad civilian modified Vikings and five soldiers wrestled the great machine down to the ground, the Gronckle fighting valiantly struggling against its bonds until a local EMP generator was slapped in place over the primary power source. The entire mech slumped, and the camera's glow slowly died. The machine itself was silent, but the A.I. was intact to be fought another day.

"An' tha' lads and lasses leads us quite well to the most impor'ant lesson for today," Gobber sighed grimly as he dropped down from his Viking's cockpit. "Be it A.I. or piloted, a Dragonoid will always," he cast me a warning look, "_always_…go for the kill."

I frowned as the medics swarmed over me, making sure nothing was broken or bleeding, before turning my gaze on the Gronckle as it was towed away. I didn't speak a word of the Dragonoid's language, but the mech hadn't seemed like it was going to shoot me. It was asking me something. Maybe it was asking me if I was ready to die, but none of its weapons had been active or pointed at me. Did A.I. even know how to gloat? This Dragonoid hadn't looked like it was about to kill me, and all of its shots had disarmed the others of Nu Squad.

It also wasn't the first time I'd looked down the barrel of an alien weapon and lived to tell about it.

Too many questions, not enough answers. If a Dragonoid always went for the kill no matter who or what was piloting it, why had I managed to survive both encounters?

* * *

_TIME: 1455 HOURS  
__LOCATION: ENGLAND, SIX KLICKS SOUTH EAST OF DOME TERRITORY_

I'd managed to get through my first day of training with minor cuts and bruising (Or as Gobber called it: "Jus' enough ta keep ya on ye toes."), the pilot suit's armour absorbing the brunt of the attack against my back as I'd hit the wall. The rest of the lesson had been far less…interesting. Apparently our esteemed teacher only saw fit to release a Dragonoid on us once a week, which suited me just fine, the rest of our time was spent running survival drills against the Vikings themselves. We wouldn't see another Dragonoid until next week, when we were actually capable of at least moving the Assault Frames.

That said, I could still feel a slight ache in my joints as I walked cautiously down the broken road towards the other end of the village, the leg I had broken of the EMP stinger loose in my hand. It was a blind hope really; a stab in the dark that might give me the answers I wanted here.

I had no idea where the Night Fury or its remaining pilot had flown off to on that day a week ago. The logical part of my brain was telling me it went back to Washington Crater, but another part reminded me the Ca'furor was the only Dragonoid in the database that used a duel seat design. With one pilot dead, that small part grimly hoped that meant the Dragonoid might have crashed again, perhaps even close by.

Of course, the reason old aircraft used to have co-pilots was in _case_ the normal pilot was dead, but like I said, it was a small hope. And sometimes a small hope will grasp at what straws it can in its bid to be right.

So this is why I found myself making my way down one of the smaller broken roads that led to the main road, shivering against the cold in the shadows of the trees that overshadowed the broken tarmac, my boots rustling the layers of dead foliage. I had decided to leave the bike back at the church ruins. The broken roads had been hard enough on my butt getting here, I wasn't going to risk the weathered, root strewn roads and try to explain to Gobber or my dad as to why the Military Police was short one motorcycle.

I was a bit more careful on this trip too. I'd changed into civilian clothes of simple black cargo pants and navy turtleneck, a warm beige windbreaker for the cold and Wellington boots for the anticipated mud that I might encounter after the heavy rains we'd been having over the last few days. The motorcycle's IFF signal, that which had given my position away to Astrid, had also been deactivated. If the night Fury was still around, I wanted to make sure I was the only one who knew about it.

Speaking of which, I let a small military medical kit swing listlessly in my hand as I continued to walk towards the main road, a potential peace offering to the co-pilot…if it was still alive…to show I wanted to help in exchange for my answers.

Helping a Dragonoid pilot. If the General ever found out, I could pretty guarantee my life was forfeit.

I'd considered bringing food, but I had no idea what these aliens eat, or even if Earth food agreed with them. Better to play it safe and offer something I knew it could at least partially use and use food at a later date if I learned anything new about the species.

The only other thing I had decided to carry with me was an audio Dictaphone. For all expectations, it was the Night Fury's on board database I was hoping to get a look at, as long as the EMP hadn't fried that too, but the phrases I'd heard, from the Dragonoid co-pilot and the Gronckle A.I., I wanted to know what they meant, and the translation matrix back in The Dome's central computer would no doubt find easier to translate someone who spoke the language fluently then my half remembered attempts at emulating them.

I'd decided against bringing a weapon with me this time. Besides, that last thing I needed to do was antagonise the co-pilot again…if it was still alive.

If. This whole venture seemed to be made up of ifs. _If_ the Fury had crashed. _If_ the EMP hadn't fried the database. _If _the co-pilot was alive…Too many maybes, not enough definitelys.

The forest abruptly dissipated as this despondent thought flitted through my mind, a hand shielding my eyes with a wince as I took in my surroundings. The surrounding area was surprisingly clear of trees, the nearby fields only overgrown with tall grass and weeds, once trimmed boarder hedges now wild and out of control. A majority of the houses had been clustered here, surrounding the crossroads of the village's centre and the local school and all in varying states of weathered decay. Most had stood up to the test of time, but I couldn't help but notice the odd hole in the lines that denoted the occasional collapsed structure (the school itself currently had a fallen oak half buried in its Main Hall), their stripped out windows giving the place a wholly lonesome feeling.

Across the road from the school lay a large field, perhaps the size of a small football ground and probably once the hub of activity for village fetes, school races and charity events. Now long grass swayed in the autumn winds across the open grounds as vines of ivy crept up the rotting wooden fence that split up the remains of a small playground, the wrought iron fence that had surrounded the grounds quietly rusting in peace along the road's edge.

I sighed bitterly into the quiet that surrounded me as I let my shoulders slump in defeat. Admittedly, this entire 'expedition' had been a long shot at best, but the fact I'd wasted a colossal amount of time getting ready, travelling beyond The Dome's boarders without being seen and investigating the area made me feel even worse. I should have been at home, studying up on Assault Frame start-up procedures or good ion pump maintenance.

"This was stupid." I muttered aloud, if only to break the near silence. There was nothing here, not even a sign that a Dragonoid had even passed through here, let alone a Night Fury. I sighed again as I turned to head back towards the Church…

Only to stop as a weak moan rose up from the grassy field.

I listened to the quiet of the village, praying the noise hadn't been the wind or an animal in the grassy ruins.

I frowned for a moment more the silence was only broken by the birds overhead. Perhaps it really had been nothing. As I turned to leave once more however, a second pain ridden groan rose up from the field.

I didn't skip as I bolted into the wild grass.

What if found surprised even me. Around a third of the way in, the ground suddenly dropped away down a steep slope into a massive crater that engulfed most of the playing field beyond. Twenty metres deep at its base, it had obviously been made some time ago, the craggy sides of earth and dirt eroded with the rains and sprinkled with greenery. Grass and weeds covered the wide crater floor, save for a small basin near the centre where rainwater had collected from autumn storms. Most likely it had been made by a poorly aimed shot from one of the Mass Drivers, the remains of the shell probably hidden under the water, but any such thoughts I had on how this hole in the ground quickly disappeared as I recognised a familiar dragonish form lying close to the pond's edge.

The Night Fury had returned to its Dragonoid form, a shallow trench in the grass behind it telling me the landing had been far from smooth. Even though it had crashed twice within a week however, I couldn't see any major damage to the armour or general structure. The only other thing that looked out of place was a small black mass near the edge of the pond…

That was shifting slowly towards the water, whimpering as quietly as it could. It didn't take me long to realise what it was.

As I scrambled down the crater's crumbling side, I could see the Dragonoid co-pilot was still full encased in its pilot suit, helmet and all. The water was its obvious target as it pulled itself along the ground, not even strong enough to walk on its own two legs. Somehow though, I doubted it was thirst that had completely reduced a pilot of one of The Dome's most feared targets to a crumpled heap. The wound on its arm had been badly bandaged, light red already soaking the fabric crimson entirely. A horrid feeling developed in my stomach at the thought that the gash in its arm might have been infected. It wasn't a good sign under normal circumstances, but if there was a specific reason the Dragonoid pilot suit had been pressurised for a reason…like for example no immunity to Earth's microbiology, an open wound was a death sentence. The hole in it visor made by yours truly probably hadn't helped much either. If the Dragonoid species wasn't able to handle the microbes of Earth, it was a miracle this one had lasted as long as it did.

I didn't try to hide my approach as I slide down to the moddy ground, so I wasn't surprised when the co-pilot jumped at the squelching thud. It rolled onto its front, trying fruitlessly to get back on its feet, but all it could manage to do was fall back on its knees, and even then it had to hold itself up with one hand.

"Demagolka," its high voice was weak and raspy, pain evident in the single eye I could see, "ni jorhaa'ir gar…aht…shekemir ni!"

"Take it easy. I held up my free hand warily, "I'm here to help. See?" I showed it the medical kit, "I just want to help…"

"K'oyacyi be'chaaj…teh ni!" I frowned in irratation as the co-pilot shrank back. Vaabir'naas olaror gebi…Demagolka!"

I really wished someone had had the brains to build mobile translators, because this conversation was getting me no where. I was recording everything the co-pilot said of course, but hearing probably insults and such a good deal of time after the events had occurred hardly seemed to be productive.

Getting nowhere through talking, I knelt down and opened up the kit, searching through the small vials until I found the one I needed to sedate my 'paient' and loaded it into the hypoinjector; a roughly pistol shaped object with a barrel that narrowed down to a thin blunt tube, the clear three centimetre cylinder inserted into the rear of the device now loaded with a semi-transparent orange liquid.

. Of course I had no idea if the stuff inside the vial would put it to sleep or kill it, but with the state the co-pilot was in no, I felt it was better to at least try and help in any way I could, even if it meant putting it out of its misery.

"Nayc…K'oyacyi norac…" the alien fell backward as I approached with the hypoinjector in hand. "Gar nuhaatyc…ni nuhaatyc…trattok'or…"

It was so weak and trapped between me and the pond. The single eye stared at me with incredible pain, its head falling back against the grass as I came up beside it.

"Just relax," I tried to smile, pushing away the reminder I was trying to help humanity's greatest enemy. "I know you can't understand me, but I _am_ trying to help. This might sting for a moment…"

The co-pilot only whimpered quietly in protest as I removed one of the gauntlets, the long fingers of its bone white hand twitching weakly pressed the hypoinjector's tip into the vein.

"Takisit ni…Al'verde…"

The body went limp as the eye rolled up into its head, a peaceful sigh muffled slightly by the helmet's mouthpiece.

I carefully laid the hand down, feeling slightly relieved at the sound of even breathing. The co-pilot was asleep, at least for now. After making sure it was in deep slumber, I began the process by removing the bloody bandage and rolling back the sleeve.

I lost track of how much time passed as I patched up my 'patient'. I'd cleaned up the infection with what I had and bound the wound with a fresh sterile bandage. All I could do now was hope it would pull through.

Having done all I felt I could do with the co-pilot, I turned towards the Night Fury, a determined look overcoming my face.

If the alien couldn't help me, maybe the A.I. would.

* * *

A rancid stench met my nose as the hatch opened for me effortlessly at a touch of a button, a clear sign that power had been restored. The Pilot's body hadn't been removed from the front seat, now lit by emergency lighting. Spending a week in the warmth of the cockpit hadn't helped the decaying corpse smell any better. Its head was still at the same ugly angle, the blood now congealed and glistening against the armour plate. I could only assume the co-pilot's injury had prevented it from moving its comrade. Leaving the body seemed disrespectful if you could do something about it. Not that I could do much better. Even if I managed to get dead pilot out of the cockpit, I had no tools with me to dig a grave, and leaving the body has food for the scavengers didn't sit right with me.

Holding my sleeve to my mouth, I passed the front seat to the Co-pilot's chair, sitting down before the console and trying to ignore the carcass in front of me.

The first thing I noticed was how much…taller the Dragonoid pilots were. At 5"8 myself, my feet dangled uselessly a good foot at least above the pedals, my hands unlikely to move the large control sticks in front of me, mounted to the armrests. All the buttons were labelled of course, but the jagged lines and triangular shapes of the Dragonoid language was…well…alien to me. I couldn't tell which switch began the start up sequence from the one that fired the energy cannons.

Then there was the A.I.. Above my head, the dome that housed its central intelligence was still dark. A.I.s had a separate power source from the rest of the Dragonoid. The Military Police had learned through trial and error how to take down a Dragonoid without deactivating the A.I.. To see the dome inactive when every manual told me it should be lit (even when the machine itself was powered down.)…concerned me.

"Why aren't you active?" I wondered aloud into my sleeve as I turned back to the console. "Why doesn't your co-pilot just…fly away?"

As I had thought before, the console before me looked almost identical to the one below. I couldn't figure out why the co-pilot hadn't simply just made a beeline for Washington Crater. It managed to transform after all, surely flying away couldn't have been much harder?

I frowned as I slumped back in the large chair, my hands falling short of the armrests either side. I blinked as I felt my fingers brush against something on the way down, a small pocket swaying in the semi-darkness. It looked as though someone had stitched into the side of the chair by hand, for it lacked the finer craftsmanship of the rest of the seat. But it was inside the pouch that made my eyes widen.

Schematics, pages of them! An entire makeshift book on everything that had gone into the construction of the Night Fury class Dragonoid. Blueprints of hull structure, weapon designs, A.I. construct protocols, it was all here. Admittedly, what writing there was written in the Dragonoid language, but the pictures were incredibly detailed. Someone had also scrawled tiny notes in the margins and edges, arrows pointing to various parts of mechanisms and devices. On a page dedicated to internal blueprints for example, someone had written in large bulky letters, as though it was important, a pair of arrows pointing towards a large block towards the rear of the Fury in Dragonoid mode and a smaller module I couldn't identify sitting right beside it.

Who'd ever made this booklet had done so for their own benefit, that much was clear. Just how inexperienced did the Dragonoid co-pilot have to be to keep its own personal 'How To Maintain Your Dragonoid' manual in the metaphorical glove compartment?

Any other thoughts were quickly pushed from the back of my mind as the sound of thunder rumbled overhead. Another storm was coming in, which meant the broken roads of the village would be quickly turning to mud if I didn't get back to The Dome before the downpours came.

So I slipped the manual into one of my windbreaker's inner pockets for later study and crawled out of the cockpit, just in time to feel the first droplets of rain splash against my nose.

* * *

**Author notes:** I've got to say, I'd like to thank everyone whose reviewed, faved or alerted this story. Chances are good I'm going to continue this one, but I want to finish it first before I start uploading. If I do choose to continue, the next chapter will be uploaded on January 7th to confirm if I've decided to continue or not. From there I'll give you an estimate as to how long it will be until the rest of the story will be uploaded.  
Constructive criticism is always helpful and appreciated. I hope you've found what I've uploaded to be enjoyable and with any luck there will be more in the new year.  
Dragonoid translations are below, but as always, watch out for spoilers.  
All the best,  
Dearing

**DRAGONOID TRANSLATIONS WARNING: POTENTIAL SPOILERS!**

"Mav gar sushir?"  
(Will you listen?)

"Demagolka. Ni jorhaa'ir gar…aht…shekemir ni!"  
(Monster. I told you…not…to follow me!)

"K'oyacyi be'chaaj…teh ni! Vaabir'naas olaror gebi…Demagolka!"  
(Stay away…from me! Don't come closer Monster!)

"Nayc…K'oyacyi norac…gar nuhaatyc…ni nuhaatyc…trattok'or…"  
(No…Stay back…you can't…I can't…fail…)

"Takisit ni…Al'verde…"  
(Forgive me…High Superior…)


	5. The Learning Man

Good news! I've decided to continue Dragonoid :)  
Bad news! It's not finished yet :(

As of uploading this chapter, I'm currently about to enter the equivilant of the montage sequence of the film, but my university assignments have been taking up most of my free time, so I've been hard pressed to finish the story. With several deadlines coming up though, I hope to have a bit more free time to finish it soon. As I think I've said before, I actually want this story to be complete before I start uploading, because I want to give solid weekly releases rather than the spotty monthly ones as I've ashamedly done with my other stories (To any readers _of_ said stories, I'm working on those too, but the Writer's Block for them is a bigger than me, and its hard to chip away at it with only a pen).  
Anyway, here's a new chapter in the meantime to keep you going.

Any reviews or feedback is always welcomed with welcome arms, espeically considering this story is still in the works.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**SECTION 04  
****THE LEARNING MAN**

_DATE: NOVEMBER 22, 250 A.D.E.  
__TIME: 1623 HOURS  
__LOCATION: THE DOME, MILITARY POLICE ACADEMY, LECTURE THEATRE S.12_

I ignored the amused and surprised glances I got from my comrades as I trudged into the large theatre, soaked to the bone, my hair clinging to my skull and trailing water up the stairs. It was bad enough my squad mates were sniggering amongst themselves, save for Astrid, who only gave me a disapproving glance, but the fact the other four squads that had been selected for AF training also filled up the seats, all staring at me in bemusement and muttering to each other at the sight of the drenched soldier in civilian clothing…it was embarrassing to say the least.

Gobber thankfully decided to ignore me as I slumped up to one of the unoccupied chairs near the rear of the lecture theatre (as far from Nu Squad as I could get) choosing instead to chew out one terrified girl, one poor Sarah 'Waif' Andrews of Lambda Squad, on some technicality that running around in circles from the Gronckle screaming her head off was hardly good survival practice for a soldier of the Military Police. Review sessions that were supposed to take place at the end of every work day, something I'd inconveniently forgotten about when I'd set out to find the Night Fury and its co-pilot. Not that I needed reminded of how badly I'd done this morning.

"…Movin' on then," the Major turned his eyes on Nu Squad's leader as Waif burst into tears, her nearby friend putting a consoling arm around her shoulders. "Can any of ye bright sparks in Nu Squad tell me where Sergeant Hofferson wen' wrong this morning?"

"I don't remember the Sarge doing anything wrong," I rolled my eyes as Snotlout tried to score points with his 'girl', grinning like an idiot in the blonde's direction. "She was just so Astr…"

I smirked as Astrid slapped her devoted comrade round the back of the head into the chair in front of him, her face grim and set as she stood up.

"I intentionally placed a soldier under my command in danger," I looked up slightly at my superior's calm tone, "It was stupid and careless. Private Hiccup was almost killed partly because of my actions," she shot me a dark glare over her shoulder, "but if he'd been out on the battlefield instead of hiding like a coward, I wouldn't have felt the need to coax him out in the first place."

I scowled back, letting my head fall onto my open hand against the armrest. I didn't rise to the debate. I had made a conscious decision to avoid the Gronckle for as long as possible after all (Hiding from the flying death machine seemed like a good idea at the time), and I could see arguing was exactly what Astrid wanted me to do. She held my gaze for a moment more before turning back to the Major.

"Sir, I will not deny that my actions this morning were childish on my part, but Hiccup's own actions this morning merely accent what I told General McKrillen the morning before he left; his son is not a soldier. And no amount of training, with weapons, drills or Assault Frames will change that. Putting him on the battlefield will be a danger to us all, and _nothing _will change that."

I stood up angrily as Ruffnut and Tuffnut broke into whoops and applause, Snotlout smirking darkly as he tried to stop the blood dripping from his nose. I didn't even look in her direction as I strode out of the theatre, my throat burning and my ears deaf to the protests of Gobber as I slammed the door behind me. If Astrid didn't want me there, fine. I had something better to do with my time now anyway.

* * *

_TIME: 1647 HOURS  
__LOCATION: THE DOME, CENTRAL TOWER, MILITARY POLICE HEADQUARTERS, MAIN COMPUTER ARCHIVE_

STAND BY

I drummed my fingers against the desk as the two words blinked at me on the screen, Astrid's words repeating over and over again in my mind.

The large room that held the computer archive was dark for this time of day, the large obsidian columns that housed The Dome's largest archive casting long shadows in the information screen's dim light. To be honest, I preferred it this way; with no one else about, I could feely access what I wanted with no one around to ask questions, like 'What are all these pictures you've got?' and 'How'd you get such good audio samples of the Dragonoid Language?'. I was already taking a great risk by bringing the Night Fury manual into Central Tower (even if it was just scanned jpeg files on a USB flash drive), let alone the Dictaphone with everything I had recorded held within its memory. But I wanted to answers. I wanted to know what had made the Night Fury crash again, especially with the EMP stinger knocked out of action. A little bit of education into what we knew of Dragonoid technology wouldn't go amiss either.

Finally, the computer pinged as it completed its start-up routine.

/WELCOME TO THE\

/MILITARY POLICE CENTRAL ARCHIVE\

\HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?/

First thing was first, I had to make sure no one traced my research back to me.

ISOLATE INFORMATION TERMINAL

\AUTHORISATION CODE REQUIRED/

STOIC SIGMA SEVEN VICTOR TWO

PLEASE WAIT

As a General and head of the Military Police, some of my Dad's work needed to be confidential. Nothing illegal of course…not usually…but some information might be dangerous if found by the wrong people. This code, changed at the start of every month, was my father's way of ensuring such data never left the computer it was programmed onto.

And if his son just happened to find the new code hurriedly scrawled on a scrap of paper in his father's coat pocket every month, it was just as useful to hide what _he _was doing from everyone else just as well.

/CODE ACCEPTED\

/INFORMATION TERMINAL ISOLATED\

/WELCOME GENERAL GREGORIO MCKRILLEN\

\HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?/

RUN TRANSLATION MATRIX: AUDIO/VISUAL

PLEASE WAIT

/TRANSLATION MATRIX READY\

/PLEASE CONNECT AUDIO DEVICE TO TERMINAL\

\PLEASE SELECT VISUAL FILES/

\FOR TRANSLATION /

I felt the anticipation growing within me as I connected the Dictaphone to the terminal via a long cable, the flash drive already in its proper place as I selected every file on it.

/FILES FOUND\

/DRAGONOID LANGUAGE CONFIRMED\

\HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?/

BEGIN TRANSLATION: ALL FILES

/CONFIRMED\

\TRANSLATING ALL FILES/

PLEASE WAIT

I cast a nervous glance behind me as the terminal hummed contentedly, the audio transcripts forming words and their meanings on one side while identifying portions of text from each scanned page on the other. It would take around ten minutes or so for the files to be fully translated, but I had another question on my mind to fill up the time in the meanwhile. Putting the translation program off to one side, I accessed the database proper, intending to try and find something attached to other Dragonoid models that resembled the mystery device that had apparently worried the co-pilot.

ACCESS DRAGONOID MECHA DATABASE: VARIANTS SEEN 240-250 A.D.E.

PLEASE WAIT

/ACCESSING REQUESTED\

/DRAGONOID MECHA DATABASE\

\PLEASE SELECT MACHINE/

A list of a dozen or so Dragonoids seen within the last ten years appeared before me, each with a listing of ratings that Fishlegs loved to quote so much. Blueprints and general information filled the screen with the selection of each name, my eyes flitting through the basic info as I tried to find what I was looking for.

/GRONCKLE\

_DRAGONOID DESIGNATION: GRO'KELE  
__UNIT TYPE: GENERAL PURPOSE  
__DIMENSIONS: 12.3 METRES LONG  
__WEIGHT: 5.9 METRIC TONS  
__FIRST KNOWN DEPLOYMENT: DECEMBER 22, 233 A.D.E.  
__FIXED ARMAMENTS: MID-POWER ENERGY TURRET X2, PLASMA MORTAR X1  
__THREAT LEVEL: OMEGA (DESTROY ON SIGHT)_

/NADDER\

_DRAGONOID DESIGNATION: NAR'DAER  
__UNIT TYPE: SCOUTING AND RECONNAISSANCE  
__DIMENSIONS: 14.8 METRES LONG  
__WEIGHT: 7.5 METRIC TONS  
__FIRST KNOWN DEPLOYMENT: AUGUST 3, 242 A.D.E.  
__FIXED ARMAMENTS: LOW-POWER ENERGY PULSE BLASTERS X2  
__THREAT LEVEL: OMEGA (DESTROY ON SIGHT)_

/ZIPPLEBACK\

_DRAGONOID DESIGNATION: ZIPP'RELBEC  
__UNIT TYPE: ASSAULT TANK  
__DIMENSIONS: 18.5 METRES LONG  
__WEIGHT: 43.4 METRIC TONS  
__FIRST KNOWN DEPLOYMENT: JUNE 28, 227 A.D.E.  
__FIXED ARMAMENTS: HIGH-POWER DUEL BARREL ENERGY TURRET X2, PLASMA MORTAR X2, ANTI-PERSONAL MACHINE GUN X2, GRAPPLE GUN X2, SMOKE SCREEN DISPENSER X6  
__THREAT LEVEL: OMEGA (DESTROY ON SIGHT)_

/NIGHTMARE\

_DRAGONOID DESIGNATION: CA'VEROPA  
__UNIT TYPE: COMMAND  
__DIMENSIONS: 19.7 METRES LONG  
__WEIGHT: 68.9 METRIC TONS  
__FIRST KNOWN DEPLOYMENT: NOVEMBER 20, 229 A.D.E.  
__FIXED ARMAMENTS: HIGH-POWER ENERGY CANNONS X2, MID-POWER ENERGY PULSE BLASTER X2, ANTI-PERSONAL MACHINE X1, PLASMA DISPENSER X1  
__THREAT LEVEL: OMEGA (DESTROY ON SIGHT)_

I frowned in irritation, my eyes skimming down the lists. Each was more of the same; menacing machines of various sizes, all armed with various yields of energy cannons, pulse blasters, machine guns and plasma mortars, all marked with the same threat level.

Omega, Omega, Omega. Destroy on sight, Destroy on sight, Destroy on sight…

Until I came to the last model on the list.

/NIGHT FURY\

_DRAGONOID DESIGNATION: CA'FUROR  
__UNIT TYPE: UNKNOWN  
__DIMENSIONS: UNKNOWN  
__WEIGHT: UNKNOWN  
__FIRST KNOWN DEPLOYMENT: MARCH 26, 245 A.D.E.  
__FIXED ARMAMENTS: UNKNOWN  
__THREAT LEVEL: OBSIDIAN (**DO NOT ENGAGE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES**)_

I slumped back in my chair as I took in the virtually blank data sheet. The Military Police considered the Fury to be so dangerous, they had to make up a new threat level to make those that read the report understand what they were up against.

And now one such machine was lying in a crater not five klicks away.

The terminal pinged as it finished translation, the Night Fury's blueprints coming up over the almost blank data sheet. A machine both Dragonoid and Humanoid, the most dangerous machine we had ever faced…

And I currently knew more about it than any other human alive.

* * *

_DATE: NOVEMBER 27, 250 A.D.E.  
__TIME: 1808 HOURS (LOCAL TIME)  
__LOCATION: NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN, SEVEN KLICKS SOUTH OF GREENLAND, CMF_ DAUNTLESS_, COMMAND CENTRE_

It was getting dark as the _Dauntless _and her escort continued onward toward the Dragonoid outpost. Stoic sat in the Command chair, only vaguely aware that the night shift was changing around him. He'd been on duty since midnight the day before and was suffering for it. His eyes were tired and drooping, dark rings encircling them. He was fighting desperately to try and stay awake, the combination of coffee and energy boosters slowly beginning to ebb away as the sun dipped below the horizon.

"_We're so close,"_ he smiled wearily. _"This will be just the first step towards victory. I can almost taste it!"_

"General McKrillen?" Gregorio almost jumped as Colonel Egil Jorgenson, call sign Spitelout, shook him by the shoulder. "Sir, It's my watch. You should get some sleep. You'll be fit for nothing by the time we reach Greenland otherwise."

The general frowned slightly at his comrade's boldness, before reluctantly nodding as he hefted his bulk out of the chair.

"Wake me at 0600 sharp," he wagged a finger the amused Colonel's way. "Do _not_ move this rig within tracking distance of the installation without me understand?"

Spitelout smirked as he snapped off a salute, "Wouldn't dream of it Sir."

"Good. Then I'm going to bed."

A few hours sleep was what he needed, of that he was sure. When the time came, he and his crew would be ready to start the end of this war…

"Colonel Jorgenson! We've got incoming! Five…no six…ten…"

And in a single moment, Stoic felt his hope for the future drain away with the first energy blasts to the _Dauntless__'_side.

* * *

_DATE: NOVEMBER 29, 250 A.D.E.  
__TIME: 0812 HOURS (LOCAL TIME)  
__LOCATION: ENGLAND, MILITARY POLICE ACADEMY ASSAULT FRAME TRAINING ARENA_

"System online. Primary start-up engaged. Oxygen Supply System stable, Hydrogen Filter Control active, Fuel Flow Rate within acceptable levels, Counterweight System ready, systems all green."

The Viking's cockpit thrummed with energy around Astrid as her gloved fingers danced across the consoles before her, a grim smirk passing across her face as she heard her comrades stumble through their own start-up operations over the radio, trying to keep up with her. She was finally here, where she knew she should have been from the start. The cockpit was cramped; A chair of cracked leather surrounded by three large screens to the outside world and consoles of various functions, (start-up procedures on her left, communications and radar selection on her right, weapons and miscellaneous options on a smaller retractable console that sat between her legs), and control stick on each arm rest (the left for movement and camera manipulation, the right for weapons aiming). But she felt alive in here, like she was supposed to command the massive walking weapon platforms known as the Viking Assault Frame, even if this was a training model. From here, Astrid could show them all who she really was.

"_Tadey, ye lot are finally gonna be put thru ye paces,"_ Gobber's voice cackled through Astrid's helmet's speakers as the screens cleared to static to reveal the Arena beyond. _"Seein' as this is ye first time out with the Vikings, we're gonna start off light with the Nadder Dragonoid. But ta make things a bit more interestin'…well, ya can see for yerselves."_

Astrid smirked again as the Major chuckled. The Arena looked as though it had been rebuilt from the ground up. Giant walls of steel that dwarfed even the Viking rose up on either side, the short path before her leading into a mech sized maze, hiding the others from view. From somewhere within, she could hear the sound of a Dragonoid's ion engines echo through the passageways. She let a grin spread across her face, eager to begin.

"_Hey, Gobber before we start, I have some questions regarding the Dragonoid database," _the grin quickly faded as Hiccup's voice came over her radio. She hadn't been surprised when he showed up for training the day after her 'speech' in the lecture theatre. Rile that Private up enough, and he'll always come back to try and prove you wrong. Just this once however, she really wished he would just give up. _"I noticed we don't have any information on the Night Fury class. Has the General classified it for some reason, or is it on a separate file or…"_

"_Focus McKrillen!"_ the irritation in the Major's voice was obvious. Clearly he hadn't forgiven Hiccup for walking out on his review session, especially when he came in late. _"Ya wanna ask questions? Ask yerself how close the Nadder might be ta ya while ye've been prattlin' on!"_

The smirk returned to Astrid's face as Hiccup's comm. Frequency went silent…until Fishlegs screamed from the other end of the maze.

"_I COULD USE SOME HELP OVER HERE!"_

Astrid grinned as she pushed her Viking forward, "This is Valkyrie, moving to intercept."

"_Hiccup…heading out."_

She felt a moment of surprise that Hiccup was the first to speak up after her, Snotlout and the twins still struggling to finish starting up their Assault Frames. But she quickly put it out of her mind. After all, Hiccup was still Hiccup.

She wasn't far into the maze before she caught sight of her target, chasing a certain chubby Corporal's Viking through a T-junction by jumping over the tops of the walls themselves.

Of all the Dragonoids she'd ever seen in person, the Nadder was definitely one of Astrid's favourites. A streamlined machine cast in a silvery metallic blue, with a long graceful neck leading up to the arrow shaped head, a large RaDOME mounted just behind foldable wings doubling as a balancer with the adjoining tail for ground assaults. She watched with mild fascination as the Dragonoid almost hopped across the tops of the walls with the large claws that adorned its powerful legs, its shoulder mounted energy blasters raining orange globs of destructive light down on its target from above as Fishlegs tried desperately to loose it in the maze.

Time to get to work.

"_The Nadder class, as so perfec'ly demonstrated by Corporal Ingerman, is as ligh' on its feet as it is fast inna air," _she barely heard Gobber's commentary as she blasted the Dragonoid with a trio of training shots from her recoilless rifle. _"It's only equipped with energy blasters, but tha' won' stop it from takin' ya out by the counterweights if ya underestimate it!"_

The Nadder turned its crimson gaze on Astrid's Viking as the training shells impacted against its side, the mech almost blurring on her cameras as it tore towards her. She was out of its sight by the time it reached her corner however, the blip on her radar that was Fishlegs showing he had fled in the opposite direction.

"_A Nadder's primary role on the battlefield is reconnaissance from the air, but they've been known ta take ta the ground for hit an' run attacks,"_ Gobber's commentary continued as Astrid watched the red blip that was her target suddenly take interest in a pair of Vikings belonging to the twins at the opposite end of the maze_. "Because they were designed primarily fir the air however, tha' RaDOME on its back gives 'em a large blind spot direc'ly around the mech, specifically around the back where the beastie has no cameras. Mos' Dragonoids will have blind spots if they're grounded, so find it, hide in it, an' strike!"_

Astrid was already pushing her Viking forward as the Nadder neared its new target, Snotlout's mech coming round the corner as she pushed her machine into high gear. She was surprised that the twins had the brains to hide on either side of a T-junction as the Nadder sped by, only for her eyes to roll up to the artificial ceiling as the two yellow dots collided behind their target with a faraway metallic clang.

"_Hey! I was here first!"_

"_No way! Get your _own_ damn blind spot!"_

"_Yeah? How 'bout I give _you_ one!"_

Astrid's Viking rounded a corner in time to see the Nadder snap round at the sound of Ruffnut attempting to swat her brother's machine with the end of her cannon, its camera flashing bright red with warning, the twins managing to dodge back down their respective passageways before it began spitting bursts of bright orange energy through the aisle they'd occupied from its shoulder mounted blasters.

"_Perhaps I should've mentioned a Dragonoid doesn' _need _ta see ya if ye make enough noise."_

The Nadder had moved down into the maze now, the edges of its wings scraping against the metal walls as its camera darted to every possible junction and corner a Viking could hide in. Slowly, Astrid adjust her forward screen to the weapon cam and raised her sights before the Dragonoid's head, the recoilless rifle rising with them. She was perfectly angled, her Assault Frame just out of sight. By the time the Nadder realised she was there, the win would be…

"_Watch out babe, I'll take care of this!"_

Astrid cried out in anger and alarm as her Viking was shoved roughly by Snotlout's mech, her foot slamming against the self-righting jets pedal before her own Assault Frame toppled to the ground. She forced down a string of unladylike curses as her Viking staggered to regain its footing, swinging her camera around just in time to see the shot from Snotlout's smoothbore cannon miss the Nadder's head by a good two feet.

The mech's camera glanced in her direction sheepishly, clearly not seeing the glare she was trying to burn through its armour, _"__The light glare screwed up my sights Sarge! I can__'__t be held responsible for faulty light compen-__"_

Her mood went through a series of highs and lows in a split second as the Nadder suddenly tore round the corner, a wing clipping her subordinates mech and sending it skidding back down the path with a spray of sparks and a satisfying burst of static over her radio. The low came when the crimson camera turned its gaze on her, the Dragonoids blasters heating up for another barrage as her console lit up with warning lights. She didn't have time to think, all she could do was push the Viking into a rapid run, the legs gears screaming in protest as she took off with the Nadder hot on her heels. She watched as the numbers climb on the speedometer, another warning light appearing on her console as a steel wall rushed up to meet her stampeding Viking and the bestial Dragonoid behind it. With no time to stop or alter her course, the Sergeant turned her Viking's shoulder to the wall and prayed the counterweight attached to it would hold.

The sound of metal on metal screamed in her ears as the steel partition gave way under the combined weight and speed of her machine, her momentum carrying forward into the next wall and the next. Astrid wasn't one to just turn tail and run…not anymore…but with barricades of steel in front of her and an alien war machine behind, it was all she could do to keep up the pace as damage lights began going from amber to red across the board…

"_Astrid!"_

She caught Hiccup's cry to late. As her Viking burst straight through another of the walls, she barely caught sight of his own Assault Frame in her cameras on the other side before the two machines collided with a horrible metallic crunch. She shut her eyes tight as she felt the Assault Frames crash together against yet another of the partitions, the slab of metal falling flat under their combined weight as they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and locked together weapons.

"…Ow…"

"…_Yeah…my thought exactly…"_

The Viking's cameras were rife with static, the status console filled with red or amber warning lights. But Astrid had to get up. She could hear the sound of the Nadder's engines as it soared over the remains of the maze, like a bird of prey watching for a good meal. But the jets refused to push her up. The two Assault Frames were locked tightly together by weapons and legs. every time she tried to move, Hiccup's Viking moved with her. Sparks were flying from the weapons mounts, and she knew if she wrenched them too hard either her cannon or rifle could come clean away.

"_Astrid, you have to eject!" _It didn't help that the radio seemed to be the only thing that hadn't been broken in someway by the fall, Hiccup's voice like an urgent tick in her ear as she pulled down the maintenance console form above to try and get the jets back online. _"You can't…you have to get out of here!"_ She tried to block him out, forcing her hands to concentrate on the console and away from the eject command switch. _"Astrid please, just eject before it gets here! Astrid! ASTRID!"_

"SHUT UP!" she brought the smoothbore to bear near his Viking's head, "JUST STOP TALKING! I'VE GOT THIS!"

As the cannon exploded, his rifle broke away from the Viking's body, the two machines blown clear apart as the Nadder swooped overhead. With Hiccup's weapon dangling uselessly from the remnants of the Cannon, Astrid unloaded shot after shot from her rifle into the exposed underbelly of the metal beast, pouring all of her rage into every blast, red paint splattering its body until it collapsed out of sight into what was still standing of the maze on the other side of the Arena.

"_Alrigh' simulation over,"_ Gobber's voice sounded satisfied in her ears. _"Good thinkin' on ya feet there Hofferson. Could've done withou' the property damage though…"_

She didn't hear him finish. She was already halfway out of the broken cockpit, helmet cast angrily aside and hands clenched tight enough to almost draw blood.

* * *

I was only glad I was already halfway out of my safety harness when Astrid decided to pull me free of my Viking. I didn't have time to wince against the artificial lights as she opened my cockpit from the outside, her hand pulling me aggressively out into cold air of the arena by the front of my armour as she gave me a look that could have killed angels.

"Why. Didn't. You. Move?"

Each word was laced with venom, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stared down at me from the lip of the cockpit hatch, letting me half stand on the back of my chair. I scowled darkly, pushing her hand away from my neck.

"I'm sorry," I snorted sarcastically. "I wasn't aware you had to have ESP to pilot Assault Frames."

"I was coming straight at you," her voice was a deadly calm as I pulled myself out of the cockpit, but I could see her fist shaking at her side. "You even gave me warning…with the wrong call sign I might add."

I glowered at her as I stood up on the cockpit hatch to my full height…which did little to intimidate her since we were both around the same size. "What can I say? Astrid is easier to spit out than Valkyrie when your Sergeant is about to crash into you through a steel wall."

Her scowl darkened, if that was even possible, "Is this some kind of a joke to you?"

"No. But I do find it kind of funny that standing still makes me the bad guy here," I spat back. "I might also find it kind of amusing that you're taking our first time out with the AFs as though it was our final exam! But you know what I _really_ think is unbelievable? The fact I'm even _having_ this conversation with Arthur Hofferson's _daughter_ of all peop-"

I knew I'd gone too far, even before her fist to my face sent me careening off the edge of the Viking. I was just lucky the Assault Frame was on its back, although I certainty didn't feel like it as my armour plate dug painfully into my back with the landing against hard concrete.

"Oh yeah…that was stupid…"

I sat up painfully as Astrid landed beside me, avoiding eye contact.

"We're at war McKrillen, in case you haven't noticed," I winced at her cool, quiet tone as I rubbed my jaw, "And pretty soon, me and you are going to be stuck in right in the middle of it," She glared at me coldly. "My Dad chose the wrong way to fight. Which way are you going to go?"

I didn't reply. I knew she didn't even expect one, walking away as calmly as she could without even a backward glance.

* * *

_TIME: 1018 HOURS  
__LOCATION: ENGLAND, SIX KLICKS SOUTH EAST OF DOME TERRITORY, NIGHT FURY LANDING SITE_

Her words were still playing over and over in my mind as I found myself back on the broken roads of the village, a fresh medical kit in one hand, the Dictaphone ready in my tunic's pocket and a weeks worth of ration packets in a small rucksack on my uniformed back. I was nursing a Dragonoid pilot back to health and trying to it get back home. Somehow, I doubted this was a path even Arthur Hofferson would have considered.

Once more the forest opened up to the open area of the village centre, with everything pretty much the same as I had left it. The long grass of the playing field still swayed in the brisk wind, the buildings were still slowly decaying, there was still an oak tree in the middle of the school hall…

And the Night Fury still lay in the bottom of the crater, right where I'd left it.

As the rain had begun to fall the last time I was here (currently hard to believe with the bright blue sky above my head), I had dragged the co-pilot's still sleeping body to rest between the shield/landing plate and the closed cockpit hatch to keep it dry, silently praying that the alien's pilot suit would keep the cold at bay.

As I scrambled down into the bottom of the crater however, I gradually noticed several small differences to when I'd last been here. The dying ashes of a small fire smouldered quietly in the shadow of the Dragonoid, the smoke trailing up in the calmness of the crater only to be blown away once it reached the top of the lip. A shallow yet long mound had also been dug a little ways away near the edge of the pond, the soil still dark from being recently unearthed. I only had to notice the slightly bloody helmet that rested on its peak to realise it was the Pilot's grave.

But the most important difference was the one concerning my 'patient'…or rather the fact it had disappeared. The make-shift campsite was completely deserted, and I suddenly realised it had gone incredibly quiet within the crater.

It didn't help that I couldn't shake off the feeling I was being watched.

I had no weapons, save for the hypoinjector in the medical kit, but to set it up would take time, and I didn't want to distract myself at the moment. Hesitantly, I shrugged the rucksack off. If I needed to run, I didn't want any excess baggage holding me back.

"H…hello?" I tried to call out as I glanced around the crater. "Um…are you still here?"

I couldn't imagine the co-pilot would just leave the most powerful Dragonoid The Dome had ever faced to the elements. Would it really try to just _walk_ back to Washington Crater? I turned away from the Night Fury, my eyes scanning the grassy lip above my head, a thick feeling of dread developing in my chest. Hesitantly, I decided to try a different approach, my mouth struggling over words I'd tried my hardest to learn.

"Co…co…paani…gar…ogir?"

Are you there?

"Elek."

The voice came from behind me, high above on the Night Fury's back. And as I turned, I realised how incredibly stupid it had been to turn my back on the Dragonoid.

With a blur of onyx, I felt pain spasm up my back as I found myself on the floor for the second time that day. At least last time I hadn't had the pleasure of an alien's combat knife to my throat. The co-pilot had landed perfectly, its knees embedding themselves in the soft earth on either side of my legs, its chest armour pressing against my body as my terrified face stared back at me in the fractured visor, its single visible eye narrowed to a slit.

I swallowed thickly, all the time aware of the cool metal of the blade lightly pressed against my skin.

"H…hi…"

"Ni jorhaa'ir gar aht shekemir ni, lenedat."

"Yes, don't follow you." I smiled shakily, the central computer's translations quickly coming to mind. "You said that before, but…I'm here to help." I felt around for the medical kit I'd dropped, the co-pilot's eye watching my movements carefully. "See? It's like the other one. I came to check on this," I pointed to the bandage, just visible through the rip in the pilot suit sleeve and slightly dirty, but not the bloody crimson of the one it had replaced. "I want to help…oh what was that word…gaa'taylir!"

The eye's dark glare lessened, thankfully along with the pressure against my neck.

"Gaa'taylir?"

"Erm…yes?" I'd only self taught myself a handful of words, and the central computer was hardly a wonderful teacher. What had the co-pilot said before? "E…elek? Is that yes?"

The co-pilot seemed to frown, clearly confused by this small human being struggling to speak its language.

"I…I brought food too." I slowly reached for the rucksack, thankfully close by. "I didn't know if you can stomach our food but…"

"Vaabir'naas nari!"

The pressure returned as my hand reached into the bag, the glare returning with it. Clearly the paranoid pilot thought I was trying to find a weapon

"No No! Really, it's just food!" I pointed wildly to the bag, "Just rations honest just…oh why didn't I learn the word for lunch!"

I felt a light rumble through the pilot's armour, something I could only compare to an amused chuckle. Clearly the alien was getting some kind of laugh out of watching the strange mammal beneath it babble like a maniac. But it still remained suspicious. Not taking its eyes (I presumed it had two) off me, it slowly slid its free hand along the ground to where the rucksack lay, long fingers opening and reaching in, only for surprise to grace what I could see of its face as it pulled out a short block clothed in silver wrapping.

Once again, the pressure lessened.

"See?" I smiled shakily as the co-pilot examined the packet beside my head. "Just rations. I can't guarantee it'll taste good but its probably better for you than the birds or squirrels around he…

"Ne'johaa."

I had the distinct feeling I'd been told to shut up. Just in case, I quickly complied.

"Sorry."

The co-pilot ignored me, more content to study the ration packet. It seemed to try and sniff the strange block, only realise its helmet was in the way. It looked at me. I smiled warily back. A mental war seemed to be going on behind that cat-like eye. I sincerely hoped killing me wasn't on the agenda.

Gradually, the knife left my throat entirely, a sigh of relief escaping my lips as the Dragonoid pilot slowly pushed away from me to sit back on its legs (And with it, my own legs). The knife was still in hand though as it continued to examine the ration. Clearly I wasn't out of the woods yet.

Suddenly, it dropped the packet on my surprised chest, the tip of the knife pointed towards my Adam's apple as it stared down at me.

Oh yeah, not even near the wood's edge.

Slowly, the alien's free hand reached for the bottom of its helmet, eyes never leaving mine.

It was only when the seal broke and the helmet came free did I realise what it was doing.

And in that same moment, I realised why the co-pilot's voice had been so high and…feminine.

It…her youthful face was long and narrow (looking slightly too small for her body due to the thick armour around her neck), coming to a blunted point at her chin, cat-like eyes set just enough into the skull to be noticeable either side her surprisingly pert nose, her two outer ears nothing more than small slightly guarded holes on either side of her head. Her skin, as I'd thought before, was a bone white, contrasting heavily with her jet black thin eyebrows and hair; back length locks pulled back into a single slick ponytail held tightly together by woven strands of silver ornamental wire that she pulled free from out of the back of her armour, a few short bangs allowed to grace her forehead. The co-pilot obviously caught me staring, a dangerous grin spreading across her face and revealing a rather deadly looking set of long, sharp pointed teeth behind her pale lips.

"Vaabir'naas pir dajun, lenedat."

I _really _wished I knew what she was saying.

She sniffed tentatively at the ration packet, not entirely sure what to make of it.

"It won't taste like much," the co-pilot glanced at me as I spoke. "Just basic supplements. Everything a human body needs in a meal without any of the bodily waste."

She stared at me curiously, before turning back to the packet. Hesitantly, she tore the silver wrapping away with her teeth, her eyes taking in the greenish block with an almost childlike curiosity.

"Kai'tome?"

"Err…kai…tome?"

"Kai'tome," the co-pilot opened her mouth, pretending to eat the block. "Gar epar ibic, vaabir'naas gar?"

"Oh! You mean…ye-er…Elek…Kai'tome…I think." If these meetings were going to continue, I really needed some kind of Dragonoid/English dictionary.

The co-pilot gave me a strange look, before returning to her study of the rations. Cautiously, she bit into the corner, chewing it slowly while looking ready to spit it out at any moment.

Finally, she swallowed with a shrug, "Ni haa'taylir. Yai'yai. Ni eparde dush'shya."

She gave me a cautious look as she took a larger bite out of the ration block, probably sizing me up.

"Tion'jor copaani gar olar?"

I knew that one: Why are you here?

I frowned. Surely we'd been over this? I straightened my shoulder (difficult seeing as I was still on my back)

"Gaa'taylir." I spoke as calmly as I could. "I want to…gaa'taylir…like here…"

I reached up to indicate to the wound I'd bandaged the other week, only for the co-pilot to flinch away, getting to her feet with such speed it was as though she'd just been burned.

"Nayc. K'oyacyi be'chaaj," I never realised how tall she was as she glared down at me; seven feet at least, maybe seven and a half! "Ni kar'tayl gar chakur ner Ca'furor dajunes. Shi…ba'slanar ni solus."

Dajunes…plans. The word had been plastered across the front of a certain document I'd read recently. As she turned away from me to walk over to Alor's grave, I realised she must have known I'd stolen the her impromptu Night Fury manual from the cockpit. Looking back, perhaps taking it without asking hadn't been the best idea, considering I was trying to help this…woman.

So. I'd possibly screwed up an extraterrestrial's first opinion of me. Time to see if I could make a better impression with her second.

* * *

Ruusaan was feeling…uncomfortable.

For the most part, the co-pilot blamed the little human thing; with its incessant babbling mixed with words she understood. Its actions…confused her. First it threatened to shoot her, then it set Ca'furor free, only for it to find her again and knock her out and steal her schematics. She shook her head suddenly, her knife wielding hand coming up to touch the bandages hidden beneath her pilot suit. It had redressed her wound, _then_ stolen her 'cheat sheets'…

And now it was staring at her.

She chose to ignore it, tearing another bite out of the tasteless ration block as she came to a stop before her Superior's grave.

When she'd awoken, surprised to find herself sheltered from the rains by her own machine, the first thing Ruusaan had done was bury Ca'furor's true pilot. She had been sick before, her wound probably infected with some microbe of this cold, wet place. She'd had little strength as a result, and the second crash after her liberation didn't seem to help matters.

But then that human thing came and knocked her out. And when she'd awoken, her strength had returned, her sickness no more.

The first thing she did was bury his body. With Ca'furor dormant and no way to reach her home, letting her Superior's body become one with _this _place was the best thing Ruusaan could do for him. She knelt down before the mound, passing a gloved hand over the empty helmet with a small smile as she closed her eyes and recited the prayer under her breath so the human thing wouldn't hear her:

"**Superior, I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal."**

She would repeat this small tribute to the departed before her over and over for around an Earth hour each waking cycle to sooth the spirit as its body slowly released it back to the Universe, hopefully to be used again.

"**Superior, I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Superior, I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Superior…"**

She glanced over her shoulder discreetly. The little human thing had sat up, still watching her with curious eyes. She turned away again, trying to focus on her prayers.

"**Superior, I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Superior, I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Superior…"**

She stopped again. She didn't need to turn around to know he was still staring at her. Normally she would probably of shot at the stupid creature, or thrown rocks in its general direction to scare it off, but right now all she felt was…exposed. It wasn't as though she thought she couldn't fight the human thing off, it was the fact it seemed to be analysing her like a science experiment. No, that wasn't right…more like a scientist studying a wild animal in its natural habitat. She glanced back again. The human thing was being a bit more discreet, its legs pulled up to its chin, face towards Ca'furor yet still looking her way out of corners of its eyes. She rolled her own green orbs. The planet's star may be high in the sky, but she wasn't _completely _blinded.

Her species was normally nocturnal, a by-product of evolving on a world where the night was longer than the day by almost two thirds for most of the year. Even when the mother craft landed on this word, The High Superiors insisted on keeping a similar waking cycle. On a sealed ship, where lighting could be kept at constant levels, this wasn't much of a problem to emulate. But Ruusaan wasn't on a sealed ship, and the darkness of Ca'furor's cockpit was marred by the faint smell of her Superior's blood that hung in the air.

At the time, a change in waking cycle to rise with the star seemed logical, and sleep with the warmth of the fire. Now she was worried the fireball's heat was frying her brain and dulling her senses. The human thing shouldn't be such a bother; an itch easily scratched.

So why, _why_ couldn't she face the problem head on?

She looked down to the ration block, half eaten in her hand.

The reason why became apparent almost immediately.

Ruusaan sighed bitterly, her shoulders sagging inside her armour as she turned to face the little human thing fully. She could finish her Superior's prayers later…

Only to find it was missing.

The co-pilot blinked in surprise, her emerald eyes darting around the crater uneasily. Had it left? Was it hiding in ambush? She cocked her head to one side in alarm as Ca'furor suddenly groaned to life, followed swiftly by a metallic banging sound coming from the opposite side to her a few moments later. Immediately she scrambled to her feet, her mind filled with images of that evil little creature tearing her only change at getting home apart.

As she rounded the mech's head, her eyes widening in bewilderment at what she saw.

* * *

Once again, I was cursing my own ingenuity.

Even with one of its grappling legs missing and the device itself most likely disabled, the EMP stinger remained firmly clamped to the Night Fury's side, tiny claws buried deep into the mech's armour. With my curiosity about the co-pilot severely dampened by the evil looks she kept trying to subtly send me over her shoulder, I decided to make better use of time figuring out why the Dragonoid had crashed…again.

The A.I. was dormant, for reasons I couldn't understand. With the pressure Gobber had put us through recently, I'd been lucky to find time to glance through the blueprints to try and figure out why. Although we knew what the A.I. was capable of once the pilot ejected, what its functions were the rest of the time were unknown to us. If the co-pilot hadn't even been able to get down the road from the original crash-site, perhaps there was more to it just going crazy when its pilot wasn't around.

With so little information to go on, I could only conclude that the EMP was still active in some form, weak enough to let the Night Fury recharge, yet powerful enough to reach the A.I.'s personal power core.

This was why I'd started the Dragonoid up (the only procedure I'd truly burned into my brain) and once again I was pounding against the legs and body of the stinger, sweat pouring down my face despite the cold weather, trying desperately to get something to budge while at the same time wondering why removing the damn thing with bolt cutters in my original plans had been such a wonderful idea.

Sparks flew though as another leg broke clear, a feral grin crossing my face as I tore the poor spindly limb away from the machine. I was determined to remove this thing, even if it killed me.

And if it wasn't the problem…I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

I didn't even realise my alien companion had been watching me until I felt her shadow across my back, and even then I didn't turn to look at her. I was just focused on the task at hand. I had to break this damn stinger off the Fury's side. Because then…

I paused suddenly, the rock held high above my head. Why_ was_ I doing this? Letting the co-pilot go was one thing, but why was I trying to help her get away? I'd bandaged her wounds, given her (hopefully non-poisonous) food, and now I was _actively_ trying to help her escape. Dragonoids were the enemy. Almost nine billion people had been killed because of them.

So why…

"Hukaat dayn."

I could have sworn I jumped around a foot into the air as a new, larger rock came down on the stinger, sparks flying as the leg I'd been working on and the one below it jarred themselves loose.

I glanced at my machine's attacker, the co-pilot staring stonily at the half wrecked machine and purposefully avoiding my gaze. She indicated to the stinger.

"Gar'ra riye."

I felt a smile cross my lips as I turned back to the device, brining my rock down hard against the limb. I lost track of time as we continued to toil, painfully pounding away my poor EMP's legs until they jarred almost completely loose, the co-pilot then finishing the job with a swift slice through the last few springs with her combat knife. The sun was reaching its peak by the time we came to the last two legs, the stinger hanging limply from its remaining limbs. It had been hard work, but between the two of us we'd probably taken the job down in half the time. Now the two of us held our respective rocks high above our head, breathing laboured and faces sweaty from the hard labour we'd endured, and both (probably) agreeing I would never build something so small and sturdy again unless I had too.

The limbs came completely away with one last pathetic moan as the rocks came down, a spray of sparks standing out starkly against the Night Fury's armour as the EMP stinger finally fell to the dry ground with a satisfying thump.

I looked up at the Dragonoid expectantly. Any moment now I expected to see some kind of indication the A.I. was free. The Night Fury stayed dormant however, only the hum of energy coursing beneath its armour breaking the silence.

"Damn."

"Haar'chak."

I checked inside the cockpit, just in case, but the globe within was still dark. The A.I. hadn't reactivated. I slumped down against the Night Fury's side dejectedly, the adrenaline quickly draining away as I examined the broken EMP. Now that I looked at it, it was clearly dead. Had I really so eager to get rid of this recent problem in my life I'd just thought the first idea that came into my head was the right one? I sighed again, letting my head rest up against the armour plate.

"Well, scratch that idea."

I was too tired to be surprised as the co-pilot settled down beside me, making sure to keep a decent space between us as she stared out across the crater. We sat there for a moment, not looking at anything in particular and letting the fact our hard work had been for nothing slowly sink in.

Then…she laughed.

It started off as a light snigger, something she quickly tried to cover up with a gloved hand clamped across her mouth. The more she tried to hide it though, the more it seemed to want to get out, her shoulders shaking with silent mirth…

…and it was contagious.

The more I tried to scowl at the co-pilot indignantly, the less I felt inclined to do so. The stupidity of the situation just felt…funny somehow. Two members of battling species had worked together for possibly the first time in three hundred years…only for all their effort to be completely pointless. It just seemed…funny.

So I started to laugh too. I just lent my head back and laughed until my sides hurt, the co-pilot doubling over beside me as her own fit of giggles overwhelmed her.

It felt so…normal. Like it didn't matter what species we were, or what side we were on. We were just two people…finding something more funny than it probably was.

Eventually, the moment began to die down, our hard laughs smoothly making way for the odd chuckle as we wiped the tears from our eyes.

I glanced at the alien with a tired smile, watching as she lent up against the side of her machine with a satisfied grin, her eyes closed. It was then I realised I didn't even know my companion's name.

"Alex," the co-pilot glanced at me quizzically as I spoke up. I tapped my chest. "Alex."

"Hal-lax?" she frowned as she tried to sound my name…wrongly I might add. Maybe it was the teeth.

"Alex," I frowned myself, tapping my chest again. "My name is Alex," I tapped her shoulder gently. "What's yours?"

The co-pilot cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement. Hesitantly, she tapped me on the shoulder.

"Hallex?"

I opened my mouth to correct her, then thought better of it. I could work on her pronunciation later. I merely nodded. The co-pilot looked down at the hand that had touched me. Slowly, she tapped her chest plate, looking to me for confirmation, "Ni naas Hallex, serim?"

I assumed she thought I was referring to my species or something. I shook my head.

"No, it's my name. I'm Alex." I tapped my chest again, admittedly starting to feel a little irritated, before tapping her shoulder. "So if I'm Alex, that makes you…"

The co-pilot smiled suddenly, realisation dawning in her eyes. She tapped her chest plate confidently.

"Ruusaan."

"Ruusaan," I repeated, smiling confidently as she nodded with a tooth filled grin. After all, I was the first human being to talk make proper contact with a Dragonoid without a weapon in either of our hands since this war began.

What wasn't there to smile about?

* * *

**Author Notes**

Dragonoid translations are at the bottom as always. Also, although it's probably obvious, whenever someone is speaking Dragonoid and understands it, the words will appear in bold in future chapters. So using this chapter as an example, because Ruusaan knows her own language, when in her perspective her words appear in bold.

The Dragonoid alien's design, and indeed Ruusaan in particular, was inspired by a picture I found while surfing the net of Marida Kruz from Gundam Unicorn. Specifically, this picture - http:/safebooru . org / index . php ?page = post & s = view & id = 205077 (copy and paste into web page bar thing and remove the spaces). It was never my intention to make the aliens very lizard like (Remember Dragonoid is the name humans gave the mechs. Because no one alive knows the aliens real name, humans just refer to both species and machine by the same name.), but I did leave in some of Toothless' features into Ruusaan's design, namely his eyes and teeth. It was also the above picture that made me decide to make the Dragonoids taller than humans. I just liked the contrasting heights in the picture and decided to emulate it.  
I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. I will not be uploading any more until the story itself is complete though, so sit tight and please let me know of what you think of it so far in the meantime.

All the best,

Dearing

**Dragonoid Translation (POSSIBLE SPOILERS)**

"Copaani gar ogir?"  
(Are you there?)

"Elek."  
(Yes.)

"Ni jorhaa'ir gar aht shekemir ni, lenedat."  
(I told you not to follow me, target.)

"Gaa'taylir?"  
(Help?)

"Vaabir'naas nari!"  
(Don't move!)

"Ne'johaa."  
(Shut up.)

"Vaabir'naas pir dajun, lenedat."  
(Don't get ideas, target.)

"Kai'tome?"  
(Food?)

"Kai'tome. Gar epar ibic, vaabir'naas gar?"  
(Food. You eat this, don't you?)

"Ni haa'taylir. Yai'yai. Ni eparde dush'shya."  
(I see. Rations. I've eaten worse.)

"Tion'jor copaani gar olar?"  
(Why are you here?)

"Nayc. K'oyacyi be'chaaj. Ni kar'tayl gar chakur ner Ca'furor dajunes. Shi…ba'slanar ni solus."  
(No. Stay away. I know you stole my Night Fury plans. Just…leave me alone.)

"Hukaat dayn."  
(Watch out.)

"Gar'ra riye."  
(Your turn.)

"Haar'chak."  
(Damn it.)

"Ni naas Hallex, serim?"  
(I'm not Alex, correct?)


	6. I Saw The Earth From Above

Good news! I'm still alive! :)  
Bad News! I'm still not finished! :(

Yes, it's that whole Real-Life-Is-A-Pain-In-The_Ass thing again, mixed with Writer's-Block-Won't-Budge. But it's been far too long since I updated and I thought if I got some feedback on a couple of new chapters it help the story reach its' conclusion. So, you'll get one chapter now, and maybe another next month if I think I need the boot up the backside. So please PLEASE leave some feedback or constructive criticism, because it might be just what I need to get this thing finished.

On a related note, I'd like to thank KaoruSailorZ (if she/he is still reading this) for recommending this fanfiction on Tvtropes. It might not seem like a big thing, but it's the only story of mine to be recommended, which is one of the reasons I want to get it finished. Also, thanks to everyone whose read, faved, reviewed or alerted this story. I just hope it's worth your time in the end :)

Hope you enjoy.

Dearing

* * *

**SECTION 05**

**I SAW THE EARTH FROM ABOVE**

_DATE: NOVEMBER 30, 250 A.D.E._

_TIME: 1522 HOURS_

_LOCATION: THE DOME, MILITARY POLICE ACADEMY, LECTURE THEATRE S.12_

"…An' with one mighty burst from his plasma morta, I fell into a world of pain as my arm was seared clear away! Oh ye should've 'eard me scream. Nothin' wrong with a good blood curdlin' scream if ye've been 'urt enough. Speakin' of blood…"

I sighed as Gobber descended into a gruesome description of the events that had left him as the cyborg he was today, Waif several rows down emitting a terrified squeak and sinking low into her chair as he began to describe the 'crimson fountains'.

Having worked with the major for two years, and with him being one of my Dad's best friends, I'd heard this story several hundred times in my lifetime. So you can imagine the bored look on my face as I gazed up at the tiled ceiling shrouded in gloom, my feet resting on the top of the empty chair in front of me.

How exactly had a lecture on Dragonoid weak spots turned into Gobber's War Tales was beyond me.

"I'm so angry right now!" I was just about to doze off when Snotlout jumped to his feet in a frenzy. "I'm gonna…I'm gonna avenge your beautiful limbs sir! I'm gonna break into every Dragonoid I fight and chop of the limbs of every pilot I see…with my face!"

…

_ '__That made no sense to everyone else right?__'_

The stunned silence from the announcement seemed to confirm my thought, although the image of Jorgenson trying to go toe to toe with the 7"5 foot tall Ruusaan (teeth and all) brought a somewhat pleasant smile to my face.

"Well…tha's ah…very thoughtful of ye corporal," Gobber smiled warily as Snotlout was dragged back into his chair by Astrid. "Bu' the pilot should be the least of ya worries. If ye want ta take out a Dragonoid quickly, ye should find a way ta get ta it's power source. Knock tha' out, an' the entire machine is dead inna water, an' we can move in to capture it. 'Course, if ye wanna _really _impress the brass, find a way ta take out the A.I. memory core. Tryin' ta find info out without tha' thing going all beastie on us could be a real time saver!"

That's when it hit me, like a bolt of lightning to the brain. It had been staring me in the face the whole time, ever since I first found those blueprints.

Without even thinking, I stealthily rose from my seat and headed for the exit as Gobber warbled on, only aware that Astrid's bemused eyes watched my back until I was out of site.

* * *

_TIME: 1531 HOURS_

_LOCATION: THE DOME, WEST SECTOR FIVE, MCKRILLEN RESIDENCE._

The lights grudgingly flickered on as I barged into my room, one hand fishing my tablet computer from the desk draw while other padded down my pockets for a certain Flash drive I currently never left home without. It was so obvious, so _stupidly_ obvious. I opened up the translated pages of the Night Fury manual from the flash drive, flicking through page after page until I found the one I wanted.

_ INTERNAL VIEW-TECHNICAL DIAGRAM_

My eyes darted across the page until I found what I wanted. That block, the unidentified module that was placed beside near the power source. Now fully translated, I realised why Ruusaan had highlighted it so urgently.

_ A.I. MEMORY CORE_

_** TOO CLOSE TO POWER SOURCE IN **__UNABLE TO TRANSLATE_ _**CONFIGURATION! REMEMBER TARGET**__**'**__**S ATTACK!**_

I slumped back into my chair, letting the tablet fall the short distance from my hand to the desk. In its Dragonoid configuration, the Night Fury's A.I. memory core was practically right next to the power source. When transformed into humanoid mode, the Core moved with the rear cockpit chair to a position near the mech's head, but the machine was subjected to a direct EMP in Dragonoid mode, like say the one attached to a Stinger missile, the A.I. would be fried. And unlike the power source, there was no chance of a reboot of power once the EMP was removed. A look through the A.I. Construct Protocols, only confirmed what I'd already figured out.

The Night Fury couldn't fly, because it had no Artificial Intelligence to help it.

Among its primary functions, Beast mode notwithstanding, an A.I. was tasked with keeping a Dragonoid stable while in the air. In the Night Fury's case this was even more important than normal; the Dragonoid mode, while fast, was clearly designed to be compact rather than completely aerodynamic, and I didn't want to even think about how the humanoid mode would stay aloft for very long. Without its A.I., it was a wonder that Ruusaan had been able to get the damn thing up in the air at all. She most likely crashed when she tried to transform her machine back into Dragonoid mode, probably to try and get away faster. So if I was to try and get the Night Fury running again, all I needed was to get the machine a new A.I.…

Easier said than done.

My first thought was to try and steal one of the A.I.'s from the Dragonoids we kept at the Arena, but I quickly banished such thoughts. Even if I did find a way to bypass security and download one, I very much doubted even the Nightmare's A.I. could keep up with the calculations necessary to maintain the Night Fury's functions.

That left me with two options, neither of which I particularly liked.

The first was to abandon the Night Fury altogether, but somehow leaving an advanced Dragonoid where anyone could find it didn't seem like the best idea, something I think Ruusaan would agree with me about. This would also leave me with the problem of what to do _with_ said alien co-pilot. It wasn't like I could just put her in a basket at the end of my bed like a stray animal I felt sorry for. I shook my head as I leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Leaving the Dragonoid to the elements wasn't much of an option. Which just left…

I rubbed a hand across my face. I wasn't really considering going through with this was I? I had no guarantees it would work, no promises anything I did would be accepted by the Dragonoid, both machine and alien.

But if it _did_ work…

I sat up, determination crossing my face as I flicked through the pages again until I came to the section I needed. It wouldn't be easy, but if the Night Fury was ever going to fly properly again, I was going to have to try and build something no human had even considered building from the day this war began.

I was going to have to program a Dragonoid Artificial Intelligence.

* * *

_DATE: DECEMBER 4, 250 A.D.E._

_TIME: 1348 HOURS_

_LOCATION: ENGLAND, SIX KLICKS SOUTH EAST OF DOME TERRITORY, NIGHT FURY LANDING SITE_

"Gar vaabir'naas haa'taylir bid jate."

I ignored the amused looking Ruusaan as I slumped down onto the back of her armour she'd offered me for use as a cushion against the frosty ground in front of the fire. I didn't have to understand the co-pilot to know she'd just made comment about my current state.

My form was hunched over, eyes ringed by dark circles as my joints complained from being in curled over computer screens for hours at a time. Even with the manual's A.I. Construct Protocols in front of me, I'd spent long days and sleepless nights trying to transcribe alien procedures and data files into something human computers could understand. That I'd managed to put together a prototype in around five days was a miracle in itself. Score one for the inventor in me I guess.

"Meg vaabir gar ganar ogir?"

I glanced tiredly across the flames to where Ruusaan sat, trying to ignore how much more…feminine she looked without the armour that now served as our seating. Her emerald eyes were curiously on the tablet under my arm as it beeped urgently. I smiled as I set the computer between us.

"Say again please," I tapped my mouth as I spoke. Ruusaan gave me a strange look, but quickly understood what I wanted.

"Meg vaabir gar ganar ogir?"

_ What is that?_

The words appeared on the screen as the built in microphone picked up her voice, causing a smile to cross my face. I'd managed to install a basic translation matrix onto the tablet's main drive, nothing too fancy or memory clogging. The program was designed to pick out words it recognised from the small pool that had been installed and make form a sentence as similar to it as possible.

Ruusaan's eyes widened as she recognised the Dragonoid script above the translation, "Ni haa'taylir. Te reddo miit, serim? Mav te reddo Gar'ra miit?"

_ I see. It says my words. Will it say yours?_

I shook my head. It was by no means a perfect program. Translating the Dragonoid language was easier because I had a translation matrix to base it on, but for the moment I couldn't translate my own words back, simply because no one had ever thought a Dragonoid and a human being would ever need to have a conversation. I was glad the small project I'd worked on the night before was working well enough.

"I'm sorry we can't have a normal conversation," my words were accompanied by a series of hand gestures and shaking of my head to try and help her understand, "This is the best I can do for now. I'm here to help…Gaa'taylir…and this is how I'm going to do it."

Ruusaan didn't answer, but I think she got the gist of my hand waving. Moving the translation matrix to one side of the screen, I brought up the A.I. construct protocols for her to see.

"Ibic la teh ner Ca'furor dajunes. Tion'jor copaani gar tengaanar ni ibic?"

"This is the reason you can't get Ca'furor to fly," I hoped using the Night Fury's actual name might help. "It has no A.I.," I winced as she gave me a blank look. Of course a human acronym wouldn't make sense to a alien. "It doesn't have this, erm…" I flicked back to the translation matrix, opening a new window and flicking down the list of words, "Ca'furor…nayc…mirshe!"

Ruusaan gave me a weird look, somewhere between confusion and trying not to laugh.

"Te Ca'furor ne'naas ganar mirshe?

_ It has no brain?_

I rubbed an embarrassed hand over my face. Wrong word obviously. I brought up the A.I. construct protocols and tapped them, "I call this an Artificial Intelligence. We think of it like a brain for machinery." I tapped the side of my head, then indicated to the Night Fury.

Ruusaan's smile disappeared as she nodded with realisation.

"Gar inno te Mirdala," she glanced up mournfully towards the Night Fury. "Te Ca'Furor Mirdala la dar."

_ The intelligence is gone._

"Yes-I mean elek," I nodded as I pulled the flash drive out of my pocket, "But it's okay. I've been working on something that might help."

New files appeared as I inserted the drive into a USB port, the co-pilot's eyes widening in mild surprise as familiar images appeared accompanied a language that from her perspective was almost alien: English.

"It's just an early prototype, so it won't get you home just yet…"

"Te naas ani."

"No, it's not finished," I shook my head, a part of me glad to see I was slowly picking up the language. "I need more data than the protocols can give me. I…" Ruusaan looked up at me inquisitively as I struggled with a line of her language I'd tried to memorise, ""Ni linibar…aht…kebbur ibic…bat te Ca'furor."

I need to try this on the Night Fury.

Ruusaan stared at me quietly, her face unreadable. I didn't blame her for being hesitant. After all, I was asking permission to install untested enemy (in her eyes) technology on an advanced mech on the off chance it might get her back to Washington Crater. I tried not to shrink back under her intense gaze. I felt like I was being analysed like a damned science experiment, while at the same time I felt very…exposed. it wasn't until I started to wonder if the Dragonoids had some kind of clothes only x-ray vision that a smile spread across Ruusaan's face.

"Ori pirusti."

I looked down at the tablet, a smile of my own crossing my lips.

_ Very well._

* * *

A few years back, I came across an old movie made well before the Dragonoids had invaded. Funnily enough it was an alien invasion flick. It was the usual thing really: Aliens arrive, aliens kill humans, America saves the day and all that. But the thing that stuck in my mind about the film was a scene towards the end when one of the heroes interfaced with the alien mothership…using a human laptop. At the time, I'd always wondered if it would be so simple for human technology to interface with alien technology. And as I tried to pull my hair out with frustration, I was very quickly realising the answer to my question.

While rebuilding the A.I., how I was going to transfer the program into the Dragonoid had surprisingly never come up. I had been more worried about building a working prototype and the repercussions of installing a human Artificial Intelligence onto an alien mech, and now I was paying for my short-sightedness. Dragonoid computers were closed circuits; all data was transferred through wires via a computer kept on the mech's home installation. As such, trying to get the flash drive bound A.I. into the Night Fury's Memory Core was hardly…fun.

Wires trailed from the connection port near the A.I. dome to where I sat in the forward cockpit chair, the tri-pointed connection plug lopped off with Ruusaan's combat knife and the protruding wires crudely connected to my tablet through one of the USB ports. I had no idea what this would do to my computer, but it would have to do until I could attach a proper plug to the connection wire…_if_ I could attach one. I was already aware of the odd spark that flared from the exposed wires if I so much as shivered, the tablet feeling unnaturally warm against my knees. Downloading the A.I. was already an annoyingly slow task, the last thing I needed was for my trousers to catch on fire.

"La te ani?"

I glanced up as Ruusaan's head popped up through the cockpit hatch, her face no doubt a mirror of the bored look I gave her. It also didn't help I had to shut down the translation matrix to speed up the download process. I didn't need to know anything of the Dragonoid language to guess what she'd asked however.

"Nope, not done yet…for the hundredth time" I shook my head with a strained smile. "Cut me some slack, I'm not exactly enjoying this either you know!"

The co-pilot scowled, making a sound like a cross between a tut and a sigh through her pointed teeth, "Gar vaabir'naas ganar aht orjorer."

I rolled my eyes as she ducked sulkily back outside to continue her lookout, before turning back to the tablet. Considering it was the Night Fury that was really doing the downloading, I had no way of knowing how far along it was until the Dragonoid itself reacted to the presence of the A.I.. I sighed as I leant back in the cockpit chair, my head grazing the bottom of the headrest as I closed my eyes. The cockpit was surprisingly clean when I'd opened the hatch, the blood scrubbed from the chairs, any sharp edges from broken machinery filed down or pushed back into place. Ruusaan had clearly been busy between my visits, but I felt a bit guilty that she'd been repairing the Night Fury's innards all by herself. After all, I was the one who shot her and her Alor down…

I grimaced as I recognised the faint traces of an awful smell, "It's faint but…it still smells of blood in here…"

_ "__Mirdala nari ani.__"_

I blinked in surprise as a deep computerised voice rumbled up from behind me, a hopeful look crossing my face as I turned to the rear of the cockpit. Before my eyes, the circuitry patterns that lined the A.I. dome's surface were gradually taking on a crimson hue, the camera in the centre adjusting itself like an iris. I smiled in relief as I turned back to my tablet and hastily disconnected the wires, "Well, glad that's over with…"

_ "__Tolase: Strena…a-a-a-a-a-as-To-To-To-las-las-…__"_

I froze as the voice stuttered over its words, the dim lights flickering as its tone seemed to get higher with every second. As the voice reached an ear-splitting pitch, the cockpit hatch slamming closed and the lights above snapping off, leaving me in total darkness and nothing but the noise to assure me the Dragonoid hadn't killed me.

"This can't be good."

_ "…To-To-To-To-To -Sys-las-las-__tem-To-To-tem-Sys-To-Sys-las-las-las-System-tem-tem…"_

The voice cut off, leaving me with the realisation of how hard my panicked breathing was.

_ "System: Online."_

As the lights flashed on to a blinding brightness and the Night Fury thrummed to life, a quick glance behind me allowed me time to see the last of the red disappearing from the A.I. dome, replaced by a cool blue that seemed to better fit the militaristic female voice that came from the cockpit's speakers…a voice that had started to speak English.

I sat back as I felt the main thrusters ignite.

"No…not good at all."

* * *

Ruusaan heard the sound of her precious Ca'furor long before the mech tried to take her head off.

She had been on her way back to check yet again to see if the A.I. had been moved yet when the machine roared to life, the co-pilot barely having time to leap clear into the pond before Ca'furor took off across the crater floor.

** "Hey! Where are you going!?"**she spluttered through a mouthful of dirty water. **"Get back here with my…"**

Her voice died as Ca'furor collided with the side of the crater, realisation dawning as the machine's powerful thrusters pushed it up along the wall and into the air.

** "He has no control…"**

* * *

I was numb, terrified even.

Pressed into the cockpit chair, all I could see was blue sky ahead, clouds streaking past as I watched alien numbers climb on the console before me.

The tablet clattered to my feet as I groped blindly for the control sticks, but both of them were slightly too big for my hands to properly grasp. Even if I'd been able to operate them, I had no idea which stick did what!

The Night Fury continued to climb, the heavens beginning to darken as we climbed higher into the sky. A hundred thoughts flashed through my brain as I closed my eyes. What if we breached the atmosphere? Was the Dragonoid safe for space flight? Even if it was, would I have enough air?

I couldn't take it

"Stop…please stop…" I whispered pitifully, clenching my eyes shut. "Please. PLEASE STOP!"

_ "Home Language confirmed."_ The A.I. spoke calmly._ "Order unclear. Nearest logical order at current flight stage is level out…"_

"YES LEVEL OUT!" I shouted in hysterics. "PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF…JUST LEVEL OUT NOW!"

_ "Order Acknowledged."_

The Night Fury lurched, and I had to throw a hand out to stop my head from being smashed against a bulkhead. I didn't open my eyes though, not until I felt the ride smooth and a strangely lighter gravity retake control of my feet rather than my back.

_ "Level out complete. Query Pilot: are you incapacitated?"_

I cracked an eye open. I was alive…somehow. I could still feel adrenaline pumping through my veins, but I was alive, that was the important thing.

And I had quite the view waiting for me.

Across all screens, the sky was dyed a dark blue, the Earth curving away slightly near the bottom of my vision. I'd lost sight of England and the rest of the British Isles entirely, what little I could see through the cloud layer revealing vast plains land layered with thick snow.

Then it hit me: I was doing what no human had done for almost two and a half centuries. I was flying.

_ "Query Pilot: are you incapacitated?"_

I shook myself from my stupor as I looked back towards the A.I.. Something had gone wrong with its installation. I'll admit my Dragonoid wasn't exactly up to scratch, but I was sure I'd programmed the new A.I. specifically to the details written down in the construct protocols. Maybe something from the tablet's systems got transferred along with the A.I., a problem with the transfer could also explain why the Night Fury had just taken off like that…

_ "Query Pilot: are you incapacitated?"_

I shook my head. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about such problems. The A.I. seemed to be working at any rate, keeping the Dragonoid in the air at least, so that was something.

"Yes, I'm currently unable to pilot the Night Fury properly," I smiled weakly at the blue 'eye' that was staring at me from behind. "If you wouldn't mind, could you please return us back to where we took off? Slowly?"

_ "Order acknowledged."_

I sighed as the Dragonoid slowly banked in a wide arc, watching as more of the Earth came into view as I strapped myself into the safety harness. The world looked peaceful from up here. You'd never know a war was being fought below. In fact, you'd never even know anyone lived on this small blue and green world if you just looked down on it from up here…

* * *

The skies were starting to darken when Ruusaan heard the familiar sounds of Ca'furor's engines overhead, a pang of relief flitting through her heart as she watched the onyx machine circle the crater and touch down near the pond. Her mind had been plagued by a hundred different worries and scenarios since she'd seen her mech disappear into the sky. She'd been scared and confused, stranded in the middle of unfamiliar territory with a human colony not so far away. She also felt angry though. Admittedly, it probably wasn't Hallex's fault that Ca'furor had taken off as it did, but that split second fear that he'd just abandoned her had stuck in her mind, playing over and again like a video on a loop. As such, she had a good long lecture for his computer thing to translate for her as he clambered out over the edge fo the shield plate…only for it to be lost in an instant as he staggered towards her.

He looked paler than before, his legs a little wobbly, but he was smiling thinly, eyes slightly unfocused.

** "Are you al…"**

She trailed off into a surprised gasp as he collapsed into her arms.

"Sorry," he said weakly into her jump suit, "I'm…not feeling so hot."

She didn't understand a word he said, but she felt herself smiling slightly as she recognised the symptoms of air sickness. Her kind considered it to be a healthy reaction when pilots first took to the skies. After all, if a species is supposed to fly, the Universe would give it wings on which to soar.

With a quiet sigh, she gently brought Hallex over to the remains of the fire and knelt down before it, resting his head in the crook of her arm as she hugged him tight, pulling a thermal blanket around them both to protect them against the coming cold of the night.

** "Silly little human thing,"**she muttered fondly, brushing traces of his hair off his forehead. **"Why are you doing so much to help me?"**

Hallex didn't reply, not at first. He just shivered against the cold, turning his head slightly towards her. She felt him smile through her jumpsuit.

"I saw something wonderful today," he murmured, "I saw the Earth from above…"

Ruusaan frowned as she watched him drift off into a fitful sleep, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, and not because of the position she was sitting in.

Hallex was the enemy, yet he bandaged her wounds, brought her food and even managed to get Ca'furor flying again. He wasn't like other humans. _Why_ wasn't he like other humans? He should hate her kind. He should have shot her the moment he saw she was alive in that moment when they first met. On the other side, she should have killed him the moment he first entered the cockpit. But she hadn't killed him, and he hadn't killed her.

And now here they were; curled up by the low flames of the fire. The danger she was putting herself in by even talking with Hallex seemed trivial at this moment. If her Superiors ever discovered she had been in contact with humans, they would have her killed for treason. And Hallex…she didn't even want to think of what they would do to him if they found it was him who had made contact and meddled with their technology. Chances were good they would hunt him down and drag him back home, torturing him and parading him through the levels like some tournament won prize.

She didn't want that, she realised. Ruusaan didn't want to see Hallex hurt.

She wanted to see him safe.

It was there and then that she made her decision. Holding his sleeping body close, Ruusaan slowly bent down and whispered her promise into his ear:

** "For as long as you need me, Human Hallex, I will prot****ect you from all harm."**

She didn't hear Hallex reply, but Ruusaan swore she saw the human smile.

* * *

**DRAGONOID TRANSLATIONS (POSSIBLE SPOILERS)**

"Gar vaabir'naas haa'taylir bid jate."  
(You don't look so good.)

"Meg vaabir gar ganar ogir?"  
(What do you have there?)

"Ni haa'taylir. Te reddo miit, serim? Mav te reddo Gar'ra miit?"  
(I see. It translates words correct? Will it translate your words?)

"Ibic la teh ner Ca'furor dajunes. Tion'jor copaani gar tengaanar ni ibic?"  
(This is from my Night Fury Plans. Why are you showing me this?"

"Ca'furor…nayc…mirshe!"  
(Night Fury no brain!)

"Te Ca'furor ne'naas ganar mirshe?  
(The Night Fury doesn't have a brain?)

"Gar inno te Mirdala. Te Ca'Furor Mirdala la dar."  
(You mean the Intelligence. The Night Fury's Intelligence is gone.)

"Te naas ani."  
(It's not complete.)

"Ni linibar aht kebbur ibic bat te Ca'furor."  
(I need to try this on the Night Fury)

"Ori pirusti."  
(Very well.)

"La te ani?"  
(Is it complete?)

"Gar vaabir'naas ganar aht orjorer."  
(You don't have to shout.)

"Mirdala nari ani."  
(Intelligence move complete.)

"Tolase: Strenaas."  
(System: Active.)  
Note: This is what the A.I. was trying to say before it got overwritten.


	7. Author's Note (NOT CANCELLED)

My Dear Readers,

First, I just want to assure you that this is **NOT **a notice informing all that _Dragonoid_ is being cancelled, or going on hiatus. It is still ongoing, just very, very, _very_ slowly.

As in a lot slower than I hoped.

The long of the short of it is real life is being a bit unkind to me at the moment. I'm unemployed and living in a part of the country that seems to only want to employ people with prior experience or are under the age of eighteen. I have little money to my name and while I'm not exactly about to be kicked out onto the street, nothing I do seems to help it increase by very much. There's also a bunch of personal things that I won't go into that have just been depressing and keeping me down, and I'm sure a lot of you know it's one of the hardest times to write when a nagging thought at the back of your mind keeps asking 'What's the point?'

As such, everything is just pushing _Dragonoid _out of focus. And while I am working on it, the most I ever seem to get down is a few sentences at most before, tiredness, depression or plain old Writer's Block force me to stop. Please trust me when I say I _really_ want to get this finished, but there are times at the moment that makes writing of any kind feel like I'm trying to cut a stone block with a butter knife. What's even more annoying is that I'm nearing the finale (I'm currently nearing the end of the film equivalent of Hiccup and Astrid meeting the Green Death) and I can picture almost everything just fine, it's just finding the words that are making writing a living nightmare, and the words I _have_ written are nowhere near the quality of the earlier chapters.

The reason I'm writing this is because twice now I've promised an update and now twice I'm going to have to make a liar out of myself. I was hoping setting myself deadlines might help me work, and peoples' opinions on chapters I uploaded might motivate me, as they did back at university, but all it has done is add to my stress and forced me to produce sub par work. That is unacceptable. There's enough trash on this website already and I refuse to add to it!

So, when will the next update/new chapter be arriving? Honestly, I don't know. I want to say soon, but I don't want to be a liar again. I would hope it to be sometime this year though, December at the very latest. My first objective is to look through what I've already written and just update it, and make some changes (For example, I feel that sometimes I can't understand a word Gobber is saying.) I'm tempted to just delete the story and start from the top, but most likely I'll just delete the chapters I've uploaded and upload the new ones on a weekly basis. Once that's done, hopefully finishing this thing will be a whole lot easier. As I said though, I just don't know how long this is going to take. Until fortune decides to smile on me, and I can't really say for certain.

So I'm sorry it's come to this. This wasn't the way I wanted things to go. I wanted to finish this story years ago, and look to the new film or _Riders of Berk _for sequel material. As it stands though, I just want to get this story done, and I truly, honestly hope to get it finished soon.

So keep a lookout, and I'll update again when things get back on track.

All the best,

Dearing


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